(no subject)
After we finished setting up my room last Friday, My family and I went to China Gate and had some awesome chicken and such. What a great restaurant.
Time passes, and once i'm tired of re-assembling furniture (family did not want to stay for that), I head over to the vegan co-op (thats a campus home for students of similar interests, in this case, a vegan kitchen) to hang with Dan and Laura. Between the three of us, mostly Dan and I, we polish off an entire fifth of smirnoff and two six-packs. Feeling good, I reach for the hooka which everybody has been smoking from.
I am not a smoker. I am a terrible smoker. I really only smoke on one condition: I'm drunk. The last time I was this drunk was when Zack and I watched Tommy Boy and took a shot every time Chris Farley was insulted, and I was fine because i did not smoke. Now I am smoking.
Time passes, and I forget exactly how point A and point B are connected, but here's point B: I wake up at 7:30 am on a couch on the porch of the co-op. My shirt is gone. It is raining. Most importantly, there is a moat of vomit surrounding the couch. I mean really, it was like at some time lastnight I got up in the middle of everything and proclaimed, "This shall be MY resting place, and I shall mark mine territory!"
The best part of this is not the shirtless walk of shame in the rain or my underclassed embaressment. The best part of this is that I threw up an amazing quantity of China Gate Chicken all over the porch and furniture of a vegan co-op. I'm an asshole.