Sunday was Sunday Funday, the first of the new school year. Sunday Funday is an occasion for me and some classmates and other honorary Cobras to take advantage of the rare 3-day holiday by getting together to drink, catch-up, share stories, drink, have fun and drink. But mostly it is an excuse to drink.
By my recollection, we've had three previous Sunday Fundays, all of which were happy and successful times, but all of which ended in my getting completely shitfaced. This time was no exception. But really, how can it be helped when the day starts off at a bottom-less bloody mary/mimiosa brunch followed by $2 Skyy vodka drinks at JRs? It would be a crime NOT to get completely shitfaced.
To wit: On Monday morning I was talking to my friend Kelley, trying to piece together the blurry memories and activities from the previous day's events when I looked down at the socks on the floor, the same socks I wore for Sunday Funday, and the following conversation ensued:
Me: "Hmmm, I'm looking at the socks I wore yesterday and noticing that they are completely filthy. I wonder why that is."
Kelley: "I'm not 100% sure, but it might have something to do with when you took your shoes off in the bathroom so that we could swap clothes with each other."
Me: "Hmmmm. Yeah. I guess that would explain it."
At one point during the afternoon, Kelley and I thought it might be a good idea to wear each other's clothes. Why? Not sure. 'Cuz we thought it would be funny. Seemed like a good idea at the time. (PS - I am a boy and Kelley is a girl, in case it isn't clear.)
Also, I crawled on all fours through her legs at the bar. Again, not sure why I thought that would be a good idea.
The evening ended with dinner at El Tamarindo and me aggressively making out with a guy in his car, before riding my bike home and passing out by 9:30 pm. 'Cuz that's how I roll.
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