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My friend Scott convinced me to go out and drink one night when I really didn’t feel like it.
Now, I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking and I’ll be the first to admit that, so after about 4 nasty ass tequila and cherry liqour shots, 4 or so beers, and an Irish Car Bomb I was pretty housed.
Somehow I stumble home and end up calling a girl that I really liked who was at a party a few blocks away.
Her, “Hey, what’s up? You should come over and hang out with us!”
What I wanted to say, “I’m really not feeling well, I was hoping you’d come over and hang out with me until I feel better.”
What I really said, “Fuck that shit, I’m gonna go puke and pass out!”
Her, “Are you ok?”
Me, “Fuck no, I’m gonna puke.”
Her, “You should come over when you’re done.”
Me, “Fuck no, I’m gonna pass out.”
Her, “Uhh, so why’d you call then?”
Me, “Umm, I gotta go.”
Then I puked and passed out alone in my bed.
Even when I’m drunk I still can’t talk to girls.