I am addicted to all that is ridiculous

Well, I guess all there is to say is, "I've done it again." I managed to pull another completely retarded yet funny stunt this past week, all in the spirit of being wasted to the point of amnesia no doubt. As I picked my face up from the leather couch I found my naked upper torso clinging to, I can only imagine my memories of the night before stuck to the surface much like my skin. Let me begin where it all starts, the beginning...

So, yet another of my co-workers had her birthday this past week, Tuesday to be exact, and this time the subject of celebration was the counter girl Meredith. I must admit that of all the girls that work the counter, I easily know the least about Meredith, in fact, the three most valuable tid bits I knew heading into this endeavor were the following: 1) She belongs to A D Pi 2) She is a math major 3) This birthday was making her legally capable of drinking in bars without a fake.

To try and expediate this blog as best as possible I will try to keep all events prior to the grand finale to a minimum. Quite honestly, I will omit entire valuable pieces of information of hopes of concealing journal-like drama that may have taken place. We started the night out at Dominick's, and 'we' at that point included just about everybody I hang out with from Dollar Bill. Several free sangrias later we were loud enough to cause the elderly gentleman at the door to tell us to shut up because we were giving him a headache. When I arrived I made a mental note that the table next to us was full of a collection of cute girls, who I quickly found out were Meredith's roommates, including one who was also sharing her birthday with Meredith (what are the odds of that?). Time passed and I met a few of these roommates, but soon enough we were off to Charlie's. After a rather brief stay there some of the girls decided to head back to their home in hopes of sprucing up a little bit (I think). This trip is only important in that it leads to my knowledge of where she lives, which is vital to the night's end.

So, we end up at Scorekeepers to watch the Pistons game, and from there to Rick's to end the night. Unfortunately, Meredith begins to feel a little sick at this point and she and her roommates decide it's about time for them to head on home. Meanwhile, Julie and Brynne (DB co-workers for those of you reading this from afar) are nowhere to be seen (well, maybe they were, I honestly don't remember). After talking to some other friends I saw at the bar for a while I decide to head back towards my car. It becomes quite obvious to me that there is no way i can drive at this point, let alone find my car for that matter, as I somehow had become blindingly drunk. Where do I go, where do I turn? Well, Meredith's house is close to Rick's, somebody has to still be up...

I knock and the girl that answers the door recognizes me from earlier and lets me in to find that along with her two other girls are still awake and watching TV in the living room. This is where things become a little hazy. All I know for sure is that I for whatever reason proclaim that I am a semi-professional stripper. I base this conclusion on several past incidents...well, let me explain. A few years ago while drunk on some random girl's b-day I say I'll give her a lap dance. This seeming joke turns into me hooking up with said girl. Many of my female friends were at this get together and request I do the same at their birthdays (sans hooking up). Before I know it I have done maybe 10-15 lap dances (at times multiple at one party, not that many b-days) for girls I know (mostly). I call myself semi-professional because on a few occasions girls have given me ones or fives for my slick moves. Anyway, I tell this to these girls and the one reveals that her birthday was 6 days earlier, so she deserves a lap dance. Let me reiterate that this is what I remember happening, not iron-clad testimony. Soon, the music is pumping and my belt whip manuvers are cracking the late night air. This girl, Holly, gets as drunk of a lap dance as anyone ever has. Once I'm done with her the other two girls get shortened dances as well. All this time, a digital camera is firing away. We all finally tire of the champagne room treatment and decide to go to bed. Still being wasted, I fall asleep on their leather couch with my shirt off, leading me to my initial revelation at the beginning of the blog.

Upon waking in the morning I booked it out of there. I imagine that I will see them all again, but wasn't planning on it being that soon. So, today, Thursday, I finally hear through the grapevine that these pictures have surfaced on the internet. I get the link and my embarassment is momentary. To live the life of a drifter, as I currently am, shame cannot be on your agenda. I look back and laugh, and can only assume much laughter will follow in the days to come, not to mention the occasion when I meet these girls once again. As I sit here and ponder what these girls would think of me now: am I a funny and once very intoxicated nice guy, a womanizing cocky retard, or an out of control drunk that is lucky to know where he is when he wakes each morning, who am I to care? That is the best lesson I have learned from my college days, it often just doesn't matter. Your friends are still your friends and you are still yourself, and things can always change or very much stay the same. The funny events of one night are isolated and eventually defined as just that, one night of the tens of thousands the luckiest of people will live.