Alternatively titled "No shoes, no shirt, no problem"
The volunteer appreciation party was very, umm, appreciative. Now I know that it only takes 3 shots of rum to get my shirt off, but it takes 4 shots of rum and 2 lemon drops to get me to leave it off the whole night. It all began when I showed my boobs to get cigarettes . . .
There was a large amount of drunken debauchery, and I guess I contributed to it in a major way by being the topless chick with someone else's underwear on her head, but no one made out with me. I assume its because my boobs were too intimidating. Sarah kept trying to wrestle me back into my shirt, with which I was not particularly cooperative, and everyone else kept encouraging me to take it off again by giving me cigarettes.
Everyone will be happy to know that even though I was unable to navigate the stairs, I was still able to use the phrase "planned obsolescence" correctly in a sentence.
I'm still unclear on a few details, such as why I wore Heather's shirt home, why my pajama drawer was in the middle of the room but I wasn't wearing any pajamas, and how I got to James's car with no shoes on.
