Tequila kicks my ass

So I find it pretty unfair that not only does getting really drunk knock you on your ass and cause you to wake up the next morning with puke in your hair and a headache, but it also wreaks some sort of havoc on my large intestines. Gross, eh? But seriously, I'm pretty sure last night might have been one of the best nights ever. Even though it was kind of a short night, with my wasted ass getting sent home at around 1:00. Now, I apparently didn't go straight back to the dorms, because I left the party before my roommate, and when I arrived at my room she was there...with a guy. So I assume they didn't just sprint out of the party, run past me, get to the room and strip and then act all surprised when I come stumbling in. In other news (I don't remember any of this) but I apparently just stared at them for a good awkward length of time until roommate was like, "Uh, can we have a minute?" After letting them compose themselves (I hope I let them compose themselves) I came back in and climbed into my loft and proceeded to talk to them until I passed out. "Hey, cut that out down there, I hear smooching noises! Stop it! Boy, she has mono, I was supposed to warn you. Now you have mono. You guys better not do anything now that I'm here, that's a cardinal sin you know." and so on, until I passed out in an alcohol induced stupor. Also appearing at the party were enough hot guys that I wanted to just sit down and cry; they were really that hot.
A new thing this year is my insatiable desire to drink heavily on both Friday and Saturday nights, every single week. Last year, my debut into the realm of alcohol and fun, I thought I would be instantly teloported to an AA meeting if I went out more than one night per week, and we had a system in which one of us was DD (designated drivers people, it's the only safe way to drink) at least once a month. More if you party-fouled: puked, were annoying, hooked up with a random guy or spilled on someone hot. This year I have only missed three Fridays or Saturdays, and that is since the semester started, so a good three and a half months. Which is made up by the occasions in which a Thursday or Sunday warranted drinking. Also, puking is no longer a big deal. Last year I think I threw up a total of four times all year, and each time everyone thought that I was actually dying, which was not even a reasonable conclusion because I am very articulate and can still walk, etc. While projectile vomiting. But we had to have serious discussions among friends about how to make sure no one ever drinks to much and Rachael stops puking. This year I have already thrown up at least five or six times and it has not garnered more than a, "Hah, Rachael puked again. Drunken loser." Last night was another one of those occasions. Bring on tonight!!