Friday, July 30, 2010

Short Skirt, Long Jacket

'Twas the night before most of my friends and roommates graduated college and there was a rooftop party in Downtown Buffalo. Since it was May 2008, the nights were still freezing but the roof had heaters on and everyone I knew (besides boyfriend C) went there with the goal of getting intoxicated to the extreme, rendering the cold night a moot point.

I remember pregaming hard because the drinks in DT Buff were always weak as shit and even though this was an open bar, there were goals of ridiculousness to be made.

I remember meeting Slaw's sister, Lil' Easy.

I remember dancing and singing to various Journey songs.

I remember Lil' Easy telling me that a week before she made out with a taxi driver because Muslims turn her on.

I remember being repulsed by this.

I remember the drinks being stronger than I thought they would be but still double fisting, for efficiency's sake.

I remember struggling to find a cab.

And that was pretty much the whole of my memories of that night, besides having loads of fun. Imagine my confusion the next day when I woke up in C's bed. C, who was supposed to be graduating and who didn't even come out with us.

As I groggily opened my blurred eyes, C started yelling at me.

"When are you going to stop doing this??"

"I don't know C, MAYBE WHEN I GET ARRESTED!" (referring to an earlier incident with C that I can unfortunately never tell the story of on here)


"YES! Oh, crap, did I wet the bed? Oh, I totally wet the bed."

"I'm going and here's your bag!"

At this proclamation he threw a gigantic red-orange bag on me. The only problem with "my bag" was that I had never seen it before in my life. I approached it as I do all foreign things and kicked it to the side and ignored it immediately. Then I went into his fellow graduating roommate's bed and snuggled and gossiped with HIS girlfriend. C's bed WAS wet after all.

Later, Slaw called and informed me that she had drunkenly slept through her graduation so did I want to hang out? I demanded that she immediately pick me up so I could solve the mystery of the bag. When we got back to my house, I saw my Coach wristlet and my purse were on the table. I had apparently dropped my Coach wristlet in the street and Slaw's mom found it...and tried to steal it until Slaw informed her that it was mine. It was about one in the afternoon when her mom found it. I'm lucky the scourge of homeless who roamed our neighborhood probably didn't know what it was or were still sleeping off their own Milwaukee's Best 40's hangovers.

I cautiously opened my purse and found that it was filled with hundreds of cherry flavored cough lozenges, a steak knife, and various half burned candles that I had never seen. Then I threw the mysterious red bag on the table and Slaw furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"What are you doing with MY duffel bag?"

The situation only became more confusing as we (Slaw, Lil' Easy and me) all stood around and slowly unzipped the tightly packed bag, nervous to find what it held. One by one, we unpacked what I deemed necessary for C's warm-weathered graduation:

1 long, dress winter coat
4-5 slutty, going-out tank tops
1 jean mini skirt and 1 other slutty skirt
1 absurdly hideous dress that I had never worn
1 pair of Under Armor running pants
2 pairs of knee-high boots
3 pairs of going-out heels
5 pairs of underwear, mostly thongs

Clearly, none of this could be worn to a boyfriend's graduation unless he had just gotten his Bachelor's of Pimping. I still had no idea how I ended up with Slaw's bag, when I had packed it and how I got it from my house to C's...

Later that day, however, C forgave me for ruining his graduation night and explained that I took a cab back from downtown with Slaw and Lil' Easy and drunkenly called him, demanding (my life consists mostly of demands) he come and pick me up. He drove over and found me in Slaw's room, packing a bag of ridiculous clothing.

"What are you doing?! You don't need any of this!"

Slaw defended me and replied, "No, C's she knows what she's doing! Keep going, B...You should grab that tank top too, in case you don't want to wear the other one tomorrow."

So I kept packing my bag and went back to C's house where I puked in his garbage and wet his bed and yelled at him and never got to wear any of my slutty clothes covered by my winter coat to his graduation. I consider it Divine Intervention that I was too drunk to go, preventing myself from having to greet C's parents in a frayed mini-skirt over Under Armor topped by a tank that covered so little of my boobs that it was barely street legal. Divine Intervention, indeed.

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