I'm not a big drinker. I mean, don't get me wrong, I can throw them back when I'm out dancing after I've eaten... but I'd much rather smoke a bowl. It also helps with the eating aspect of things.
I forgot to eat. And, because Ali doesn't smoke and since I had time between work and the game, I smoked.
And then I started drinking.
Ali and I met in Old Town and trolley'd it up to the stadium. It was a warm day, and the beer (and margaritas!) were cold.
After the game (Padres won!) we decided we weren't done and headed to the bar by his house.
I proceeded to beat him in 4 out of 5 games of darts. Which means I also had 5 whiskey and cokes. And I still hadn't eaten.
By the end of five rounds I was seeing doubles (coincidentally, that's how we were ordering the whiskey) and we went back to his house. Where I got ridiculously stoned with his roommates.
And as we sat there, twenty minutes later, watching Sports Center I realized the three worst things ever:
I was going to be sick. I was stuck where I was. I had to work in the morning.
I looked Ali in the eye and said, "I'm not ok. I'm gonna step outside."
And I pulled myself up, off the table, stumbled outside, and collapsed at the edge of his driveway.
Where I sat, puking for two hours.
During which his (only) female roommate came home.
When I finally found enough energy to walk back inside, I went straight to bed. His bed.
And passed the fuck out.
He was a really good sport about everything... and totally took care of me.
And even talked to me the next day...even though I was THAT girl.
