First Impressions are Key.

Last night I went to a birthday party for my friend Mike (read his blog, "sneaking out the hospital"). I got really really drunk. By the time it took three tries to swallow a sip of beer I knew that the party was over for me. I stumbled outside and jumped into the cab one of my friends had called for themselves. "C'est quoi ton nom?" the cabbie asked. By some miracle I managed to remember who the cab was actually for and forced the monosyllabic password the driver was looking for. "Chhhh---ad" I said, and we were off. Once I was home I striped down to my undies and climbed into bed. As I breathed heavy drunken breaths and told myself I was home free, the shifting darkness of the room started to do things to my brain and stomach. That's when everything went wrong big time. The spins may have taken hours to set in but then again it might have been seconds. I had no sense of time. Once my mind had ascertained that there was no way around it and that I would indeed be throwing up, I jumped from my bed. Unfortunately in my haste I had overlooked the impaired nature of my equilibrium and promptly fell thunderously onto my end table and ultimately onto the floor. This no doubt caused quite a bit of noise, but there was no time to worry about that. I jumped up again and ran as fast as I could to the washroom. I almost made it too. But alas, my stomach would not wait to revolt and just before I could open the door a buckshot blast of bile burst from my pursed lips and onto the floor. Still reeling for this preemptive strike I managed to complete the evacuation of my stomach contents into the toilet bowl. Once that was out of the way I began to worry about the vomit on the hallway floor. Well, necessity breeds innovation and I took to the task of cleaning up the mess with the only absorbent at hand, toilet paper. It was at this moment, half naked, drunk and on all fours trying to clean up my mess with fistfuls of soggy Charmin, that the door to my roommates bedroom opened. Like an animalistic reflex I blurted "Sorry. I'm the worst. Where's the mop?". The shadowy figure at the end of the hall sympathetically responded, "Don't worry about it." and proceeded the saunter past me to the kitchen. Once within a foot or two of me I noticed something different about my roommate, "Did you get a haircut?". Before the sentence was fully past my larynx I remembered, Katrina's mother was going to be staying with us this weekend. Immediately I realized the full gravity of the situation. The apologetic grin I had been wearing seemed to jump from my face and leave a look of puzzled humiliation in it's place. I stood up, keenly aware that I was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and a thin layer of puke and momentarily contemplated holding out my hand and introducing myself. Luckily panic set in at that moment and I quickly but proudly walked back to my room. This was too much... I'd deal with it in the morning.