In fact, I think the last time I was this incredibly drunk was in Portland, the night before my mom flew in.

Sidenote: the illustrious frozen-vodka is not typing this, she is dictating it to me, one of her newest, bestest friends. Or so she says/calls me.

Extra sidenote, not dictated by her: She's actually really well spoken for as fall-the-fuck-down-drunk as she is. Vaguely slurred, but elequent.

Additional sidenote (dictated by her): My nickname here is Patron. Because that is what I drink.

What follows is what she says....as best as I can type it...

The night before my mom flew in to Portland was my "going away party" at Braveheart's. It was me, Braveheart, Poppet, and Zima. I'll start a new cast page soon, because I totally just made up Zima's nickname.

That was a good night. We dyed Zima's cat orange with Kool-Aid, and she didn't hate me yet, I don't think. That was probbaly the start.

We killed a lot of tequila. And vodka. A lot. And bitch beer. Somehow, Poppet and I wound up at my place, with a massive thing of brownie bites and frosting. I don't know what happened.

I remember being at Braveheart's and lounging on the couch, one big me/Poppet/Braveheart pile, and Zima coming out to check on us, somehow trying to accuse me of flirting with Braveheart? *chuckles* Probably. I was probably flirting with her as well. Who knows.

So yes. Drunk.

Very.

A few guys got some new video game and they're breaking it in, and the girls opted for a drinking game. It's almost strange to me, that I'm drunk with people that are not fighting or making out, or trying to grope me. I think that's why I'm remembering that night in Portland.

And now they're talking about a run for munchies and crunchies. I need to throw my two cents in here. I crave hummus.

Hummmmmmussssss.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

That is all.