So, M.O.M. has totally badgered me into posting something new. This is a post under duress. M.O.M. is my oldest college friend and I love her. She is the same girl that was convinced she never threw up from drinking, and repeatedly told us so, until about a couple months after I met her. I think it came after drinking some rootbeer barrels, shortly followed by cartwheels in the Tommyland Quad. Later, I recall sitting in a dorm room with M.O.M., and we were both so drunk we weren't able to walk the 30 yards to our dorm. Actually, I think I wasn't able to walk and she stayed because of that. There was lots of puking, althoug think that was only me, not M.O.M. Perhaps her theory of puking hadn't yet been disproven. I was so beyond drunk that I could only stare at the TV for 3 hours, comforted by M.O.M. and given lots of water by the resident gentlemen. Finally, relief set in and I passed out,laying on the cold, tiled floor, covered by a thin, dirty rug. M.O.M. laid next to me, and we dozed off watching a Better than Ezra video. It was sweet relief after praying, begging even, for death to release me from my misery. Previously, the evening's awfulness was compounded by the fact that M.O.M. and I were hostages in the dorm room, unable to venture into the single-sex dorm hallway for fear of being bounced out into the cold. Fucking catholic colleges. So, I was relegated to throwing up for hours in a trash can that was regularly rinsed out and returned to me by perhaps the nicest young men I had encountered in my young life. M.O.M. and I woke up, cold and hungover on the men's floor early that morning and decided to make a run for it. Still drunk, no doubt, sprinting down four flights of stairs in fear of the R.A., and future priest, condemning us to hell. Later, I was asked how I like the "movie" we'd watched. Apparently, the three hours I'd spent "watching" TV was the movie, Heat. Can I recall one moment of it? Nope? Could I 10 years ago, shortly after it happened? No. I only remember M.O.M. sticking out the night with me and then wanting to actually associate with me in public again. That's loyalty.
Another random event from that night that I recall. It was the first time anyone told me I was beautiful. Ever. I was 18. He was wasted. I was wasted. That's where it ended. It was weird. I tried to brush it off like it wasn't a big deal, as if I'd heard that all the time.
More random postings later. Next time, M.O.M., it'll might be something less flattering. One word: Foofer. Althought, inevitably, that would be tied to another cringe-worthy word: Doody. Actually, I'm pretty sure there are less flattering moments about myself. But I'm not a priest. And I made out with Ben.
3 comments:
First, thank you so much for posting something new. It really did make my day. Second, I'm not afraid, if you tell the truth about the night of "Foofer" and "Doody" it is much less flattering in your case. However, you were a great friend that night by keeping a half conscious girl from being assulted. Thanks again for that by the way. -M.O.M.
Oh, and by the way, I didn't puke from drinking unill junior year and iwas after a dinner of spaghetti and a bottle of Malibu drunk straight from the bottle. -M.O.M.
My bad, I thought for sure the rootbeer barrels and cartwheels the night. No wonder you deserved so much shit for it, if it wasn't until junior year. 2 years of "I never puke" was totally deserving of the berating when you were barfing.
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