Beer before liquor, never sicker

I might have a few sordid drunken tales. . .

*wet t-shirt contest: check. St. Patty's Day at Bennigan's!

*nasty, dirty places: check. Why is it drinking leads you to some of the dirtiest places on the planet?

*compromising positions: check, both my own and multiple others, but they won't be reported here!

*bodily fluids: check, check and check! [almost] getting peed on by an even more drunk guy who just sat up in the bed and started relieving himself off the side. . .while we were sleeping on the floor!!! Then, see compromising positions above and throwing up below for the other two.

*throwing up: numerous times I've been the hair holder and the hair holdee. Including once in the stands at a Nascar race. eww, that was bad. Much like fellow barmaid, Ashley, I learned mixing types of alcohol is not a good idea. I'd had my normal liquor, then decided to drink a beer?! (I don't drink beer) AND then, clearly inebriated, tried to smoke a cigarette; something I've done a mere handful of times in my life and the combination was not so good. Especially for the folks sitting around us. Sometimes the bleachers are sort of open and you can kind of wash things down. Not so much in this situation. Not good.

*climbing under a bathroom stall to help a much inebriated friend unlock the door! Who was then carried over Hubby's shoulders back to the car, even passing the bike cop.

*Building up the hype (that they were actually feuding) for a wrestling "cage match" between Hubby and his Best Friend. Drinking always leads to scheming, right? Clever, brilliant schemes, of course.

*driving a friend (acquaintance?) over an hour to meet her parents because she and her boyfriend got in that big of a fight. Which might or might not have started from other girls skinny dipping and handstands in the lake.

*food fight involving turkey against the sliding glass door (Megan might recall; she was none too happy as it was her and Niki's door).

My favorite (? best?) story, however, doesn't directly involve my own drunkenness, but I was a participant in the events, so it's still my story. Hubby's birthday is the week after our anniversary in May. The year we got married, we headed back to Athens to celebrate his birthday with friends. I don't know if he was rebelling against getting hitched or if he was just used to this lifestyle more than I realized (I'd been graduated and working in the "real world" for a year. He'd just graduated in December and continued working at his job from college and was looking for a job up near me for when we married and he moved), but he really celebrated. I finally got him to leave and we were heading back to his Grandaddy's old house where he had lived during college. We had just pulled onto Loop 10, the by-pass, when he starts fumbling for the door/window saying he's going to be sick. So, I start to pull off and he manages to get the door open and rolls, mostly falls out (the car was nearly stopped) and down the hill. And then he's laying in the tall grass on the side of the by-pass, 30 ft below me screaming, "Owwww! Oh, God! It hurts! It hurts! Owwww!" And I'm just sitting in the car, crying, thinking he's dislocated his shoulder and I'm going to have to figure out how to pick up this man that is over a foot taller and a small person heavier and somehow get him back up the hill and into the car. .and possibly even take him to the hospital? He's just carrying on so. Then, I get him to tell me what hurts. And it's his finger! (I'm still laughing right now as I type this out) He'd landed on his ring finger (coincidence? I think not.) and hurt it. It did swell up and I know it hurt, but the way he was yelling, I thought it was much more serious. The next day, we were at his mama's house and he was standing at the sink and she suddenly exclaims, "my word, what did you do to your finger?" And I just couldn't contain myself. The silent giggles were making me shake, so she knew to keep inquiring. We still laugh about it from time to time.

The very next weekend, we found ourselves back in Athens and had one of our lowest, trailer-trashiest moments ever. We got into a big fight on the way back from our favorite dive: the Blind Pig, where you can take your own mugs for cheaper drinks, and as we don't drink beer, those mugs contain Margaritas. On the Rocks. Some low lights include: I back-handed him and bloodied his eye with my new rock. Before we got home, I make him stop and let me out of the car, right near 316 (a busy highway). I wedged myself between a big wooden sign and the chain link fence. There really wasn't enough room, but I just kind of ended up there and stayed for a bit - a vague sober part of my brain realizing it was safer than wandering the side of a busy highway - stewing and hiding out. Then, I came out and thought the car I saw was Hubby looking for me, so I flipped him the finger, but it turned out to be his sister. oops. And his mama was up by this point, too. Not a good moment for us. The next day, he and his mama were trying to figure out what the gooey stuff on the side of my car was and I had to laugh. Embarrassingly so. I'd thrown my honey mustard container from the leftovers I'd had in my lap at the car as he drove away when I'd jumped out. Even tipsy (plastered?), I had good aim, apparently (of course, a small SUV is a large target). We had our big heart to heart about how this was not what I had signed up for and I didn't know what he was rebelling against, but college days were over. We soon moved on to drinking wine like civilized folk and are all good 6 years later. Ok, well, we drink it out of a box, nearly every night, so maybe not fully civilized. But, we've moved up from the trailer. Sorry, Megs, no offense ;)