When I get drunk, I fall. It's not a graceful fall, it's more of an I-can't-really-support-my-own-body-weight fall.
Yesterday this girl said to me, "Don't fall," and I still did.
One time I kicked a realty sign, broke my foot, and then fell. The bones are still sticking out and they gross out some people.
Another time, I tried to click my heels, and instead of clicking my heels I clicked my face on the ground. I got a black eye and then someone said they saw me at Target.
Most of the time, I don't even know I fell until I wake up and make sudden movements that lend way to me finding the bruises. Bruises tell me the stories that I've forgotten until I check my voicemail.
I woke up this morning, and I said, "I fell didn't I?"
"Yep."
On a side note, I apparently was so inebriated that I accused my dude of flirting with a girl at the bar and trying to reach into her pockets...
... to steal all her tampons.
