This Morning
Edit: As it turns out, I now remember that I wasn't wearing this shirt at the bar last night. I have no idea why I changed my shirt before going to sleep, but failed to remove my jeans or shoes. It may have been blood that was previously on the shirt. I am a moron.
I woke up this morning with blood on my shirt and a water bottle sitting on my head. The upsetting things about this are:
a. I don't appear to have incurred any injuries involving blood last night.
b. The water was really warm.
c. I spilled the water on myself.
d. I have in my head what *seems* to be an accurate and complete memory of last night. Unfortunately, this story in my head doesn't include blood or buying water.
Things that I KNOW are true about last night [as they happened while I was sober, on my way to the bar]:
a. I accidentally got drugs again! A guy from the neighborhood [whose name I'm not positive that I heard right, but when he repeated it three times, I can only assume that he really DID call himself "Bottom"] tried to hit on me while I was waiting for the bus and, as a token of his affection/desire to live up to his maybe-name, he gave me free crack. I don't do crack.
b. I finally got into a fight! I've been wanting to get into a fight for a week or so, and the opportunity presented itself last night. I have fought this man before, and ended up with a black eye and cuts from the dullest knife in the history of mankind on my face. This time, I emerged unscathed. I am a horrible pacifist. One might call it pre-emptive self-defense, but one would be lying. He just pissed me off with the phrase, "No hard feelings, right?" He was kind enough to allow me to see that he was completely unarmed after he apologized for his previous knifing of my face, but for some reason, I found myself unable to kiss and make up. Anyhow, I don't think that this fight was the source of the blood on my shirt, because no one at the bar said anything to me like "Why is there blood all over your shirt? Are you dying?"
One day, I'll get off my lazy, hungover ass and do my laundry.
I woke up this morning with blood on my shirt and a water bottle sitting on my head. The upsetting things about this are:
a. I don't appear to have incurred any injuries involving blood last night.
b. The water was really warm.
c. I spilled the water on myself.
d. I have in my head what *seems* to be an accurate and complete memory of last night. Unfortunately, this story in my head doesn't include blood or buying water.
Things that I KNOW are true about last night [as they happened while I was sober, on my way to the bar]:
a. I accidentally got drugs again! A guy from the neighborhood [whose name I'm not positive that I heard right, but when he repeated it three times, I can only assume that he really DID call himself "Bottom"] tried to hit on me while I was waiting for the bus and, as a token of his affection/desire to live up to his maybe-name, he gave me free crack. I don't do crack.
b. I finally got into a fight! I've been wanting to get into a fight for a week or so, and the opportunity presented itself last night. I have fought this man before, and ended up with a black eye and cuts from the dullest knife in the history of mankind on my face. This time, I emerged unscathed. I am a horrible pacifist. One might call it pre-emptive self-defense, but one would be lying. He just pissed me off with the phrase, "No hard feelings, right?" He was kind enough to allow me to see that he was completely unarmed after he apologized for his previous knifing of my face, but for some reason, I found myself unable to kiss and make up. Anyhow, I don't think that this fight was the source of the blood on my shirt, because no one at the bar said anything to me like "Why is there blood all over your shirt? Are you dying?"
One day, I'll get off my lazy, hungover ass and do my laundry.