OR, I had a drunken altercation with the pavement and lost.
Thursday night was a roller coaster.
On one hand, I went out in high spirits, because I knew that I didn't have school on Friday, so I was pumped!
On the other hand, I was a little upset, thinking about John going to Iraq soon and me seeing him for the last time before he leaves the next day.
And then I got really excited, because Lers was going to make a rare trip out.... I met up with her and AC Gilman at Taylor's at like 11. For me, going out before midnight = satan. You'll see why.
So I was all pumped about Lers coming out.... And as LL and I went through our first and only drink with Lers (double vanilla vodka and sprite), we began to notice that she was hammered. Then I got a phone call that I had to take outside. When I came in, Lers told me that she wasn't feeling well (she had been celebrating AC's new job/drinking for 6 hours) and since she rarely goes out, this was not a surprise. I told her as much, and she straight up started crying! Then she and AC left, and she cried on the way home! I felt so bad, and even after LL assured me that I was my normal self and not mean, and that Lers was just over-reacting because of her being hammered, I still had it on my mind.
Thursday's holiday was "No Beard Day," and since I hate facial hair, I had been getting on many of my friend's cases who have facial hair. One such individual was Fred, who we see on Thursday nights at VI Degrees.
When we went to such a place, and went up into the DJ Booth (which is more or less a vulture perch at this place!), I discovered that Fred had shaven his off. AND, he wore a shirt that said "Let's Hug it Out!" I love hugs! This definitely put the roller coaster on an uphill climb.
Next stop was Vitucci's, where we (and this now includes Danielle, and obviously Vitucci, who was working) did a shot of Pat Ron. Oh, that bastard Uncle Pat Ron! He hasn't been too nice to me of late!
After that, we went to Cush, where we had jager bombs, and a tall 44 North and Sprite (fave drink).
Next stop was Decibel. Apparently (as I don't remember really), we had 3 tickled pinks (all drinks = each, although not always with Danielle, as she was driving designatedly), and SEVERAL shots, mostly of Pat Ron. Fiff.
Then we went to Ma Fischer's, where I THOROUGHLY enjoyed some Cream of Chicken and Rice soup (Love it), which I actually remember a second of, and grilled cheese (as usual).
Next thing I know (as I said in my last blog), I woke up wearing just my skirt, underwear, and all my jewelery. Oh yeah. And seven or so bandaids. As you can see in the following pictures, which were taken Friday morning, my sheets were covered in blood.
That yellow body pillow is my boyfriend, or so I say. He cuddles with me nightly. =) I'm sad that I bled on him, though. It came out, though. Out of the sheets, too! Holla!
There's the pile o'bandaids. Hot, right?
There's my left knee. As you can see, it sustained a little bit of scrapage. Looks worse now, as the scrape scabbed, and there is a bruise around it. I know you're probably getting aroused just thinking about it! Freak. Just kidding. Haha!
The picture above, as well as the next three below are of my stigmata hands. These too look worse now, although they feel a lot better, because they are at least starting to scab. I took the pictures with the jeans later in the day, as I thought that the stigmata was more visible then!
It especially sucked at the Badger game, though, because I couldn't even high five! I had to high three, or high four! That shit hurt!
Ok, below is my sexy knee. I call the left one the pretty one, and the right one the sexy one. Teehee.
Yep! I sure did a number on them! Best part is, I was convinced that I did not need to wipe them down or put a band-aid on them. I told Danielle it was unnecessary, that they didn't hurt, and that I was tired and just wanted to go to bed.
She finally showed me that I had blood running all the way down to my shoe (which does have a stain from a literal pool of blood in it), and that I absolutely needed band-aids. I apparently told her that I did not need bandaids on my knees, just my hands. Evidentally, when my hands came into question, I actually requested bandaids. My reason was that I didn't want to get blood on my sheets. When Danielle was trying to wipe me down on my other injuries, which was right knee before the hands and left knee after, I told her that I didn't need bandaids, because a couple days before then, I napped with someone who had recently shaved his head, and left a few tiny (and I mean tiny) spots of blood on my sheets.
Apparently, I thought the knee wounds I had were comparable with the nicks (or knicks) my friend had sustained with the head shaving. Completely absurd.
So yeah. There you have it.
Alright, the reason I did this blog tonight was so that I could give the wound on my knee a bit of time to air out.... It would still bleed on my sheets (as it did in Chicago on Friday - oops!), so I can only air it out for now when it isn't going to be touching my pants or linens (that's for you, D!).
Hopefully I won't be having any more "seven bandaid nights" anytime soon!
Holla!
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