Lucy Locke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mightbeconcussed) wrote2007-07-01 03:11 pm
mightbeconcussed) wrote2007-07-01 03:11 pm
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Honestly, officer, it wasn’t my fault…
See, I was trying to be a good friend. A good citizen even. We were at this party and there was drinking but we’re both twenty-one so that’s okay right? Right. Anyway…I mean I guess there’s that drunk in public law but we’re only drunk in public for as long as it takes us to get to the dorm and besides I’m not drunk. You can give me one of those blow dealy tests. Anyway…
So I was driving her because tonight I’m the official designated driver. I’m a huge believer in those things. Like whoa. Seriously. I’ve been mainlining diet coke all night. There was an Espresso too at the beginning of the night. Does caffeine show up on your blow test thingy?
Right, the point. I’m getting to it. It’s a long and twisty road to the point. Kind of like this road. So anyway, she’s smashed. You can probably tell that without the blow job dealy test. So she’s smashed and I’m driving her home because designated driver. So she is leaning against the window and she’s all ‘oh God, Lu, I’m going to throw up.’
Okay, look. Do you see these shoes? They’re Manolo Blahniks from his new spring line. Three hundred dollars and they’re cute. Way cute but if they get vomit on them they will never be this cute again. Not to mention, the smell will never come out of the leather. So she leans over to me instead of out the window and I’m like ‘Tiff! No! Manolos! I can tell she’s already too far gone though so I’m trying to push her back to her side of the car so she can puke there and lift my shoes up into the seat and out of the line of fire because the car has cruise control.
And that, Officer, is how I hit a mailbox.
See, I was trying to be a good friend. A good citizen even. We were at this party and there was drinking but we’re both twenty-one so that’s okay right? Right. Anyway…I mean I guess there’s that drunk in public law but we’re only drunk in public for as long as it takes us to get to the dorm and besides I’m not drunk. You can give me one of those blow dealy tests. Anyway…
So I was driving her because tonight I’m the official designated driver. I’m a huge believer in those things. Like whoa. Seriously. I’ve been mainlining diet coke all night. There was an Espresso too at the beginning of the night. Does caffeine show up on your blow test thingy?
Right, the point. I’m getting to it. It’s a long and twisty road to the point. Kind of like this road. So anyway, she’s smashed. You can probably tell that without the blow job dealy test. So she’s smashed and I’m driving her home because designated driver. So she is leaning against the window and she’s all ‘oh God, Lu, I’m going to throw up.’
Okay, look. Do you see these shoes? They’re Manolo Blahniks from his new spring line. Three hundred dollars and they’re cute. Way cute but if they get vomit on them they will never be this cute again. Not to mention, the smell will never come out of the leather. So she leans over to me instead of out the window and I’m like ‘Tiff! No! Manolos! I can tell she’s already too far gone though so I’m trying to push her back to her side of the car so she can puke there and lift my shoes up into the seat and out of the line of fire because the car has cruise control.
And that, Officer, is how I hit a mailbox.