2010: It was what it was...

Picture it: May of 2010.. A cool spring breeze rustles through the newly blooming trees. A group of friends are sitting outside enjoying the warm evening air and partaking of some refreshing adult beverages. Sounds lovely right?? Well, it was. Until that peaceful little group started throwing back the shots. Or maybe it was just me?? I'm not sure, even to this day.

First of all, I guess you would've considered me "on the wagon," at that time. Not that I'm an alcoholic but I just don't drink much at all these days. And while we're on the subject, what the hell kind of a phrase is that anyways; on the wagon? I know it's like, "Oh you know Sam? Yeah he's off the wagon." Like he fell off or something which makes sense because I wouldn't want to ride on a wagon while inibriated but whatev. Why would you get on a wagon in the first place if you were about to get wasted?? And don't you think there should have been a wagon that just drove around picking up the passed out drunks?? That would make more sense, to me anyways. Then it would be the opposite. "He's on the wagon." "Noooo..." "Yep. They found him last night." I just watched this entire scenario take place in my mind. Incidently, the man who was picked up by the drunk wagon had a very large beer belly and was entirely too sweaty for his own good.

Back to the real story. We (or me, still not sure) decided to take some shots.. Sailor Jerry, I believe; but still, not sure. The details are a little foggy... All I remember is asking my brother-in-law if we could borrow a thousand dollars and when he asked if I was serious, I said, "Or you could just do the Billie Jean dance. I brought my Ipod." I really thought that was the most ingenious idea ever.

Fast-forward to the next morning.. I woke up on the couch and there is only one word that can possibly describe my appearance at this point: Disheveled. Mostly, I was a wreck.. I got up to go to the bathroom but when I actually stood up, a horrendous pain shot through my right foot. I looked down and my entire foot was purple and the little baby piggy toe was looking at me sideways. I limped my way to the bedroom and asked my husband what had happened to me.

At that moment I realized that my entire body was hurting.. And it was not like a hangover ache. It was like I entered a midnight body-building competition. When I asked Matt about it, he gave me the stink eye and said, "Don't you remember doing cartwheels last night??" Insert blank stare here. "You were doing cartwheels all over the yard last night and you were really good at them."

Later that day, we went over to my brother and sis-in-laws house. Micheal (BIL) tells me that in my drunken state, I had been spouting off strange facts and random numbers. One of those random numbers was shfourteenteen. He figured it had something to do with my gas milage because I had been talking about that (?!?). Then I tried to convince Matt that McDonalds does indeed sell cigarettes at the drivethru window and we should hurry over there.

Apparently, when we got home and Matt had turned off the car, I laid my seat back and said, "I'm going to bed." He had to carry me inside. Sometime between him putting me on the couch and when I awoke the next morning, I apparently had an adventure all on my own. One that involved breaking a poor innocent little toe...

And so ends another adventure of 2010.