Friday, August 06, 2004

Sloshed

5 bottles of champagne, 20 jugs of who-knows-what, 5 Lumborghinis, floor.

After all that bickering in my head, the party still kicked ass. Okay, I don't exactly remember if it kicked ass, but everyone was making out with each other and barfing all over the place after that. That's supposedly good, right?

Someone made out with someone at the party. Barely surprising. But surprisingly disturbing. It took me a while before it completely registered. But I couldn't be more psyched for her. But I'm also thankful I had my head down the toilet and missed out on the action.

Oh, and Vicki, if you happen to trip over your own feet (like you did last night) and land here, thanks for the present. Or presents. I could've sworn I saw twins.

What was completely hysterical was when the drunkard of a birthday girl somehow made her way into the backseat of a car belonging to a complete stranger, and came face to face with her just as pissed drunk boyfriend. And ended up sharing a gag bag.

They call it backseat love.

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'Ain at 17:53

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