Speaking of fake I.D.'s (in reference to my last post) I proved that I actually deserve one rather than a real one. I puked in my best friend's brothers house - on the floor.
There are a couple of things I do not understand about myself. First one is why the hell do I NEVER throw up in a toilet? (Except for that one time I fell in love with you Sabrina) Also, why did I drink myself silly? And then why did I wake up on her brother's couch with a note from her saying that I looked too peaceful to wake up? She probably didn't want to deal with Miss Puke on Her Face and I wouldn't either! I feel awful for welcoming her to spring break with projectile vomittng the lovely meal her parents cooked for me and then having her clean it up! Ewwwwwwwww.
I have now thrown up on: Sarah's bothers wood floors, Vicky's sink with dishes in it, all over, under, around the Waterford toilet, some rando toilet in a club on 6th street, in an airport trash can (with style, I chose the trash can with the most people around it), in India either in the toilet or the car I can't remember, on Seneca Room number 10's wooden floors. Ewwwwwwwwwwww.
EW. EW. Ewwwww Ajna.
You know you can't go on throw-upping every where you go! I feel like a dog who has to piss on everything to mark his territory, only difference is I have a vagina and I "think" I am as tall as my flippers for feet deceive me - therefore thinking I can hold back a couple of 'em shots. I can't hold back anything. Seriously.
Haha. 24 hours later. I think I am still drunk.
Is that possible?
Might be for a lightweight.
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