When you have a scar or an alcoholic war wound to prove you had a wild night...then you must believe the day after stories from your girlfriends. Around this time last year, my crew would always go to this crazy Tuesday night party called Outdanced, at a club in the Go. Its an alternative lifestyle party, filled with hipsters, drag, drugs, and a fucking page out of Studio 54s book. Well we would go every Tuesday, but this particular Tuesday the smell of vodka was in the air, and it forced us all to howl at the moon & go bezurk. Especially me. An open bar + $1 shots = one fucked up Remeka. All I remember was falling repeatedly on the dancefloor, dancing really hard, my boyfriend at the time yelling me at me to get in the car, and me walking my girlfriend up to her apartment. If there were anything else, I must've been floating in air. I woke up the next morning to throwing up in the bathroom of my boyfriend moms crib. I passed out on the toliet after thrusting my self around the bathroom, and woke up to my guy wiping my nose with peroxide. Apparently, after throwing my self around, I split open the bridge of my nose. Ugh! And since I am a G, I took my ass to work with my busted nose, bloody and all. My co-worker that went out with me the previous night had told me how crazy I was acting...including me saying that I saw the shot girl do a handstand with the shot tray in her hand! The full story of the alleged dance off, and me taking back shots as if I were drinking mouthwash to get rid of a deadly bacteria of the mouth. All in all, that shit has changed my life, cause I don't drink vodka, and I don't want to die in the bathroom. How unglamourous is that?! And I will always remember it from just a touch on my nose...
*Dedicated to Sarah @ Missbehave Magazine!
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