Just Don't

Ignore the post from yesterday that doesn't exist. If you have Google Reader you know what I'm talking about, otherwise, don't worry about it. That post was meant for next week but I'm an idiot and can't figure out things like "scheduling posts" and "the innernets".

Moving on: before I get into Job Fair week I thought I'd tell a story for Ben's Worst Hangover Ever contest.

See, I like to indulge every once in a while in an alcoholic beverage or two. There are times when I don't remember or pretend not to so as to avoid embarrasment and/or potential lawsuits.

One of the worst drinking nights I had was when I actually woke up in a different city then I started in - and didn't quite remember how I got there.

It was a gorgeous fall day last September and I had accepted a ride out to Saskatchewan with a friend's friend to attend a golf tournament in honor of another friend's friend's dad who I'd never met (following me still?).

I'm random like that.

This guy comes to pick me up and luckily he was actually really nice and easy to get along with. Good thing because we had an eight hour drive ahead of us with nothing but flat prairies to stare at. I think I was clever enough to talk about aliens abducting us in wheat fields or something for an hour.



Upon arriving in Regina, I put on my golf attire (and I do wish you could see my argyle socks and pink/purple and white runners):


We headed for the course, free drinks in tow (and in golf bags). The golf game was ridiculous - My friend had his pants off at one point because apparently the rule is that if you don't hit past the ladies tee you go pantless for the rest of that hole.


At one point I remember the guy who drove me to Regina challenged me to drive the golf cart up a sand hill. He was absolutely joking but after a few beers I thought it was a great idea.

Turns out it's not so much fun getting a golf cart out of a giant sand trap.

Keep in mind, this is about 3 pm.

Needless to say, by the time dinner rolled around and we were awarded "Best Dressed", I was pretty far gone.

Apparently we decided karaoke with some of my friends out there was a great idea. I had never sang karaoke before so I completely butchered "Like A Virgin" (note to self: Alice + Madonna = tragedy) before letting everyone know what I really thought of them.

Good thing I'm a happy "Ilurveyouman...reallyidoyaknow" drunk and not an angry drunk.

At this point my memory is a little hazy. I vaguely remember calling my friends van the Party Machine and telling everyone we were all going to a "Secret Party". Yeah, that's what the kidnappers all say.

Next thing I know I wake up, on a strange couch, feeling like a cat just shat in my mouth and a steamroller just drove over my forehead. I grabbed a piece of mail off the counter only to realize that I was at a friends house in Saskatoon. A full three hour drive away from my starting point in Regina.

I was lucky. All I'm trying to say here is: Don't be a Jonze