So Friday, right? As I said, we were celebrating. We (the single ladies) headed out. We met up with some of the "new faces". 4 girls and 4 guys. Great conversation, good company, lots of laughs...what more can you ask for? It seemed like we had just gotten there when the lights flickered and the bartender said "last call". None of us wanted the night to be over. We stood for a while trying to figure out if we were going to a different bar or if we wanted to go home. We settled on everyone coming back to our house.
We starting playing Catch Phrase. Again, why not? Having so much fun....getting very competitive. Girls against boys, you know. All of a sudden, one man runs out of the room and to the bathroom. But not just any bathroom, my bathroom. He was throwing up. I just knew it. I chose to think on the positive side of things...at least he isn't barfing on my carpet. Poor Dude comes out and falls out on the floor in my living room. He is laying there...I, of course, turned into a little mommy asking if he needed water or food. He said no. He popped up really quickly and ran back to the bathroom. I decide I'm going to make some pancakes...logical.
I was in the kitchen mixing up the batter when I hear a loud crash. I knew what it was...my favorite platter from Delta C pottery. I held my breath...hoping it hadn't shattered into a million pieces...when I heard, "Yep, it's broken". Hmm. I look down and my pancakes were scorched. I tossed them, turned off the stove, and put the batter in the sink. I was done. I walked out of the kitchen...close to tears...and announced I was going to bed. Poor Dude just left...didn't say bye...just ran out with his friend. Roomie was very upset that I was upset. I just needed to get in bed. Chaos for a good ten minutes.
Before I got in bed I walked into my bathroom just to make sure Poor Dude hadn't thrown up in my shower. I heard the shower curtain move during all the drama and wanted to have it cleaned up that night instead of waking up to it. To my surprise, no throw up in the bathtub. As I was closing the shower curtain I looked down into my garbage can and saw what I thought was a t-shirt. I was like, why is there a t-shirt in my garbage can? At my second look I realized that it was a pair of men's underwear...
In the words of Carrie Bradshaw, Poor Dude "poughkeepsied" in his pants.
Yes.
It happened. He then proceed to discard his soiled drawers in my garbage can (and then bailed without a word).
Again, yes.
I'm sorry, but take that crap with you.
Here are some pictures from the memorable evening.
(Ironic: last picture of the platter :()
As usual. My life.
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