Monday, May 19, 2014
I will never go back to Crystal Lake, Illinois ever again. So here’s the story… I went to visit my friends, okay? Well on my first night there, Lyndsey, Brendan, and Brinley forgot me at their house when we were all supposed to be going out to dinner. I was starving after a lot of traveling and they had nothing to eat except for a couple crumbs I found underneath the cabinet in the kitchen, and nothing to drink except for Miller Lite. I was so thirsty that I didn't have a choice but to crack one of those bad boys open. I figured I would be okay because it wasn't bourbon, like when I was visiting Daylen and Hooter. Well, it wasn't okay. One sip let to another and before I knew it, I slammed that beerski like it was my job and then the night went downhill from there.
The night is still a little fuzzy, but here is what I remember: after slamming my ice cold Miller Lite, I went into the family room where the Silkers still had their Christmas tree up.
At this point, I knew the beerski kicked in because the lights looked a little blurry. The lights reminded me of a strobe light, so I started dancing. Shake, shake, and shake my booty, hands up, hands up…. You get the picture…. The next thing I knew, I tripped over my very fashionable Indian moccasins and landed head first into a bowl of mints.
I had to call for Bo to help me out because I was stuck like a mouth full of peanut butter with no milk. Again, you get the picture. After Bo helped me out of the mint bowl, I rode him into the bathroom. At this point the Miller Lite was definitely flowing right through me. Turned out the Brendan had left the toilet seat up again because, SPLASH! In I went.
I had to hang on to the chandelier and spin in circles in order to dry off.
. I must have been making a lot of noise because before I knew it, John Smith had entered the kitchen and was standing there watching me. It was so embarrassing. I was drunk, soaken wet (with toilet water… thanks Brendan) and hanging from the chandelier like a monkey. I was so embarrassed I immediately had to crack open another Miller Lite and slam it. And here is where the fuzziness comes….I don’t know how I woke up the next morning in bed with John Smith.
I’m not saying he’s not a total hottie with a body or anything…. I just can’t remember how I got there. But what I DO remember is that he kept calling me Pocahontas, which is HELL NO not okay.
And THEN, after waking up early to make him breakfast, I caught him sneaking into the Barbie Dream House to sleep with Barbie. What a player.
So... Long story short, I am never going to Crystal Lake ever again. Ever. Again.