So it's the day after St. Patrick's Day. Do you feel like death? Did you wake up in your own bed this morning or was there some awkward morning after situation? I know all about an awkward morning after situation following a drunken St. Patrick's Day.
Buckle in kids, it's time for another edition of The More You Know: Morning After St. Patrick's Day edition:
It was St. Patrick's Day of 2007 and it started with a real bang. And by 'bang' I mean 'shot through the heart.' Bon Jovi-style. I had discovered some rather lovely texts between my husband and his girlfriend proclaiming his dream of holding hands on the beach in Mexico with her. AWESOME. Faced with yet another piece of evidence that my life was falling apart faster than Michael Jackson's face on a hot summer day, I left the house and ran into the arms of the one man I knew on whom I could always count.....
Yep, Mr. Smirnoff.
I met some friends for some afternoon St. Paddy's patio boozing on what was an unseasonably warm March day. After a few vodka sodas, I was off to another gathering with a different set of friends, Mr. Smirnoff included, of course. After a few hours and several more rounds, we decided to afterparty it at my friend J's condo she shared with her boyfriend. We had a few more drinks and turned their kitchen island into a dance floor, busting moves into the wee hours of the morning. We shut that shit down around 5am. I decided to spend the night. I did not particularly want to go home and frankly, was in no shape to drive and wasn't really looking to add a DUI charge to my already in-shambles life. J was a gracious host, lending me a pair of pajamas and setting me up with blankets on their futon. I crawled under the covers, closed my eyes and drifted peacefully into a vodka slumber...
Hours later, as I remained under my covers, I faintly heard voices. I was still half asleep and had not yet opened my eyes but I heard J's boyfriend whisper "J, who's in our bed?" "What?" she asked, "what are you talking about?" she mumbled. "There is someone in our bed," J's boyfriend explained. "Omigod," said J "Who is that? I'm naked." "So am I" said her boyfriend.
It was St. Patrick's Day of 2007 and it started with a real bang. And by 'bang' I mean 'shot through the heart.' Bon Jovi-style. I had discovered some rather lovely texts between my husband and his girlfriend proclaiming his dream of holding hands on the beach in Mexico with her. AWESOME. Faced with yet another piece of evidence that my life was falling apart faster than Michael Jackson's face on a hot summer day, I left the house and ran into the arms of the one man I knew on whom I could always count.....
Yep, Mr. Smirnoff.
I met some friends for some afternoon St. Paddy's patio boozing on what was an unseasonably warm March day. After a few vodka sodas, I was off to another gathering with a different set of friends, Mr. Smirnoff included, of course. After a few hours and several more rounds, we decided to afterparty it at my friend J's condo she shared with her boyfriend. We had a few more drinks and turned their kitchen island into a dance floor, busting moves into the wee hours of the morning. We shut that shit down around 5am. I decided to spend the night. I did not particularly want to go home and frankly, was in no shape to drive and wasn't really looking to add a DUI charge to my already in-shambles life. J was a gracious host, lending me a pair of pajamas and setting me up with blankets on their futon. I crawled under the covers, closed my eyes and drifted peacefully into a vodka slumber...
Hours later, as I remained under my covers, I faintly heard voices. I was still half asleep and had not yet opened my eyes but I heard J's boyfriend whisper "J, who's in our bed?" "What?" she asked, "what are you talking about?" she mumbled. "There is someone in our bed," J's boyfriend explained. "Omigod," said J "Who is that? I'm naked." "So am I" said her boyfriend.
I lied there, snug as a bug in a rug on that futon, still dazed and sleepy, eyes still closed thinking to myself "Weird, I wonder who's in their bed?" Then, I opened my eyes and noticed, to my dismay and horror that I most certainly was NOT still safely tucked away on that futon....
I was in their bedroom! It was me, ME who was in their bed! WTF? I was at the foot of the bed, like a dog but I was right under the covers with them. WHAT.THE.FUCK?
I have NEVER been more EMBARRASSED, not to mention CONFUSED, in my entire life. I was mortified, if I could have pressed some sort of escape button to immediately remove me from the situation, I would have pressed the fuck out of that button. But alas, there was no button, just me lying in the bed of my friend and her boyfriend and I had to face the situation. "Is that you?" my friend J asked. Shit! I let out a little mew and then said "Uhm..how did I get here?" My face was still turned away from J and her boyfriend, I wasn't ready to look them in the eyes yet. "We don't know!" said J just as confused as I was. Weird.
At this point the three of us burst into a fit of laughter, there was nothing else we could do. We surmised that, at some point in the night, I must have got up to go to the bathroom and instead of returning to my bed, I drunkenly stumbled into their bedroom (their door was closed by the way) and crawled under the covers in their bed. How I did this without knowing and how a person crawled into their bed without them knowing is a testament to how drunk we all were. Thank Christ J and her boyfriend, now husband, are super cool people because that shit could have been real awkward. Like, friendship-affecting awkward.
So kids, remember this: If it's St. Patrick's Day, and your life is falling apart and you're going to booze it up hardcore, bring cab fare. It will cost you money but it could save you a potentially embarrassing and awkward morning after.
I was in their bedroom! It was me, ME who was in their bed! WTF? I was at the foot of the bed, like a dog but I was right under the covers with them. WHAT.THE.FUCK?
I have NEVER been more EMBARRASSED, not to mention CONFUSED, in my entire life. I was mortified, if I could have pressed some sort of escape button to immediately remove me from the situation, I would have pressed the fuck out of that button. But alas, there was no button, just me lying in the bed of my friend and her boyfriend and I had to face the situation. "Is that you?" my friend J asked. Shit! I let out a little mew and then said "Uhm..how did I get here?" My face was still turned away from J and her boyfriend, I wasn't ready to look them in the eyes yet. "We don't know!" said J just as confused as I was. Weird.
At this point the three of us burst into a fit of laughter, there was nothing else we could do. We surmised that, at some point in the night, I must have got up to go to the bathroom and instead of returning to my bed, I drunkenly stumbled into their bedroom (their door was closed by the way) and crawled under the covers in their bed. How I did this without knowing and how a person crawled into their bed without them knowing is a testament to how drunk we all were. Thank Christ J and her boyfriend, now husband, are super cool people because that shit could have been real awkward. Like, friendship-affecting awkward.
So kids, remember this: If it's St. Patrick's Day, and your life is falling apart and you're going to booze it up hardcore, bring cab fare. It will cost you money but it could save you a potentially embarrassing and awkward morning after.
