A Drinker With Writing Problems...

A famous author once said " I do not write because I want to, I write because I have to." I guess this pretty much sums up the reason why I started a blog. Not because I think every single person on my facebook friend list gives a shit about what I'm doing every minute of every day. In fact for the most part I haven't even begun to blog in present tense. There has to be some sort of statute of limitations on the shameless things I do, so look forward to seeing tonight's upcoming scandals somewhere in the distant future.

This being said, let me take you back to a Friday night long ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

One of my good friends was having a party at his new townhouse on campus. Alot of friends from high school had gathered and were catching up on old times. Myself, always trying to keep the party alive, noticed that our rations were running low. Panic set in as I realized this party may be coming to an end, and I could not allow this to happen. In an act of desperation, I set out on a mission. As I was wandering around downstairs I became tired and sat down to gather my thoughts. My good friend J was coming down the stairs and asks, "Britt, whose cooler are you sitting on?" It was like a lightbulb had suddenly went off in my head! Why, yes. This large rectangular object that is perspiring under my thighs is indeed a cooler full of beer! In my drunken stupor, I develop the intelligent idea to try to drag this huge cooler up three flights of stairs. I had almost succeeded in doing so when I hear a loud grunt behind me. It just so happens that the cooler belonged to the college football team and these guys were not to be reckoned with. I left the cooler in its place, ran inside, and locked the door behind me. Sadly, this was not the end. These boys were ready to play ball. While my friend (owner of the apartment) tried to talk them down from the inevitable, the animosity only grew stronger.

Meanwhile, my friend T had locked himself in the bathroom to hide and was trying to drown himself in the sink ( a reaction to too much alcohol consumption). My friend CT however had had enough. He grabbed a bar stool, broke it over his knees and headed for the door. As the door flew open, CT came flying back into the apartment with a face full of blood. I guess one swing was all they needed and the football boys went on their way.

Moral of the story: If you run out of beer, ask someone to drive you to the liquor store.