(no subject)
I don't know why people think it's cool to get totally wasted. They brandy their stories about in this pathetic attempt to make it seem like they're fun, cool people who really know how to live it up.
Give me a fucking break.
It's just sad and pathetic.
You wake up the next day with the worst hang over of your life and you just wish to God that somebody would kill you.
Okay. Let's roll back here a bit and go into depth with what happened.
So...from what people have been telling me, I'd had too much to drink and some guy was apparently groping me on the dance floor and my friends had to tell him repeatedly to leave me alone and even pushed him away.
Apparently, when the Best Friend leaned over to ask me if I was okay, all the colour drained out of my face and I collapsed into her arms.
She said I was cold and clammy to the touch. The bouncers kind of went overboard, according to the Birthday Girl and they all thought somebody might have slipped me something because I was absolutely out cold.
I wasn't even moaning in pain or anything and they had to carry me into another room to try and wake me up.
Some of the Birthday Girl's cousins didn't help matters any by saying I looked too pale and decided to tell the bouncers that I was probably in some sort of diabetic shock even though I'm not even diabetic. They called the ambulance and a paramedic came, scooped me up and deposited me onto a stretcher.
The Best Friend came with me and she said I puked quite a bit. Once at the hospital, I was so out of it, I couldn't even respond to any of the doctor's questions. I kept telling him to kill me though and he just laughed and said they didn't kill people there.
They stuck an IV in me (which hurt) and did some blood tests because they didn't believe the Best Friend when she swore up and down that I hadn't taken any drugs.
They also wondered if maybe somebody might have slipped me something because the Best Friend was offered a drink by someone and she already had one in her hands and she gave it to me instead. Like the mentally deficient moron that I am, I took it and drained it. I don't think there was anything in the drink, though. I mean, it would have shown up in the tox report, right?
Guess what else happens? The birthday girl, winds up having to drive home five drunks and then comes back to get me and the Best Friend at the ER. While she's getting us, someone rams into her car and makes a huge dent in her car.
What a night, huh?
Slept throughout most of today.
Woke up looking like shit and feeling like shit.
The parents didn't say anything. The Best Friend called Sister 3 who woke up Sister 2 and whispered, "Sister 1's in the hospital."
What a way to wake up in the middle of the night.
Sister 2 says that from now on, all three of us should leave our cells on at night whenever one of us is out for the night.
God. I still feel a little queasy.
I think the IV did me some good, though.
Give me a fucking break.
It's just sad and pathetic.
You wake up the next day with the worst hang over of your life and you just wish to God that somebody would kill you.
Okay. Let's roll back here a bit and go into depth with what happened.
So...from what people have been telling me, I'd had too much to drink and some guy was apparently groping me on the dance floor and my friends had to tell him repeatedly to leave me alone and even pushed him away.
Apparently, when the Best Friend leaned over to ask me if I was okay, all the colour drained out of my face and I collapsed into her arms.
She said I was cold and clammy to the touch. The bouncers kind of went overboard, according to the Birthday Girl and they all thought somebody might have slipped me something because I was absolutely out cold.
I wasn't even moaning in pain or anything and they had to carry me into another room to try and wake me up.
Some of the Birthday Girl's cousins didn't help matters any by saying I looked too pale and decided to tell the bouncers that I was probably in some sort of diabetic shock even though I'm not even diabetic. They called the ambulance and a paramedic came, scooped me up and deposited me onto a stretcher.
The Best Friend came with me and she said I puked quite a bit. Once at the hospital, I was so out of it, I couldn't even respond to any of the doctor's questions. I kept telling him to kill me though and he just laughed and said they didn't kill people there.
They stuck an IV in me (which hurt) and did some blood tests because they didn't believe the Best Friend when she swore up and down that I hadn't taken any drugs.
They also wondered if maybe somebody might have slipped me something because the Best Friend was offered a drink by someone and she already had one in her hands and she gave it to me instead. Like the mentally deficient moron that I am, I took it and drained it. I don't think there was anything in the drink, though. I mean, it would have shown up in the tox report, right?
Guess what else happens? The birthday girl, winds up having to drive home five drunks and then comes back to get me and the Best Friend at the ER. While she's getting us, someone rams into her car and makes a huge dent in her car.
What a night, huh?
Slept throughout most of today.
Woke up looking like shit and feeling like shit.
The parents didn't say anything. The Best Friend called Sister 3 who woke up Sister 2 and whispered, "Sister 1's in the hospital."
What a way to wake up in the middle of the night.
Sister 2 says that from now on, all three of us should leave our cells on at night whenever one of us is out for the night.
God. I still feel a little queasy.
I think the IV did me some good, though.