The sun would barely be up, but always high enough to peek around the curtain that never seemed to do its job. The beams would hit my red crusted eyes and force them to slowly open after another night of too much everything. I would look down at my fully clothed self and wonder where I was the night before, how I got home and why there was a half a bowl of Cheerios and milk seaping into the carpet next to the bed. After a few minutes of letting my mind settle, I usually would try to stand up and that's when I would feel it. My foot would be bonded to the bed in a nice small, but thick pool of dried blood. I would take a closer look and then the clouded memories from the previous night would pour into focus. It usually was something like this... (I usually remembered being the shirtless trumpet guy)
After a night of dancing like that, this is what I would wake up to discover.
The broken toe was almost always an indicator of a good night. The pain, if felt at all, was often brief and overshadowed by the dancing, rockin' and booze. I can say that I have broken my big toenail close to forty times and each time I wake up to discover it crusted to my bed, a smirk comes across my face as I see the remnants of a fun night.
HA! I would always step on your already bleeding toe as well. My sign of a good night is if I spill something on me, usually beer. As you know, there are countless pictures of me intoxicated with huge wet spots on my shirt. I wish I could say that I have outgrown this...
Usually i can tell when my voice is gone and my throat hurts. This is from singing at the top of my lungs classic hit that we all know and love like: "Bitch", "Genie in a bottle", and the very retired song "My Hands". Usually i work hard at retiring these songs, but they always seem to come back...You can only go on so many camping trips!
You only wish you looked like the shirtless suspendered guy playing trumpet! I don't doubt, however, that you've donned that ensemble before. Someone that can walk around downtown D.C. ALL DAY and EVENING with no shirt on would certainly aspire to wear an outfit like that trumpeteer someday.
One time I got so drunk on whiskey at a house party that I was violently stumbling around in the front yard trying to keep my head together and talk to people, and I eventually sprinted away into the neighborhood. I woke up the next morning and I have broken into my ex-girlfriend's unfinished concrete basement, completely covered in mud with one pant-leg missing. I didn't remember a thing.
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HA! I would always step on your already bleeding toe as well. My sign of a good night is if I spill something on me, usually beer. As you know, there are countless pictures of me intoxicated with huge wet spots on my shirt. I wish I could say that I have outgrown this...
Usually i can tell when my voice is gone and my throat hurts. This is from singing at the top of my lungs classic hit that we all know and love like: "Bitch", "Genie in a bottle", and the very retired song "My Hands". Usually i work hard at retiring these songs, but they always seem to come back...You can only go on so many camping trips!
You only wish you looked like the shirtless suspendered guy playing trumpet! I don't doubt, however, that you've donned that ensemble before. Someone that can walk around downtown D.C. ALL DAY and EVENING with no shirt on would certainly aspire to wear an outfit like that trumpeteer someday.
One time I got so drunk on whiskey at a house party that I was violently stumbling around in the front yard trying to keep my head together and talk to people, and I eventually sprinted away into the neighborhood. I woke up the next morning and I have broken into my ex-girlfriend's unfinished concrete basement, completely covered in mud with one pant-leg missing. I didn't remember a thing.
Micah wins.
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