As you know, it's Halloween! Usually one of my favorite holidays. Well, remember how I told you all that my life was like a weird sitcom? Ok, get ready for this one.
Our two friends from home came up to celebrate the holiday, along with my boyfriend. Everything was great; we went out on Friday night (boyfriend and I were "Swamp People..." If you haven't seen the show, it's on the History Channel and I highly suggest you watch it. I had a stuffed alligator and everything!), we went to the horse races again, and we even went roller skating (which was weird and awesome in every way imaginable).
After a lovely dinner of massive amounts of sushi, we decided to go back to my house, put on costumes, and start drinking. My friend and I got ready together. She decided to dress as a lady gangster (the classic, 1920's mobster, not the saggy-pants homeboy) and I decided to go with the ever-classic French maid. I had a fantastic getup and big heels on, and the four of us (us two girls and two boys) had a grand ol' time playing drinking games by ourselves and just hanging out. We had a few people over, and my roommate Carrie came home right as we were about to leave for another party. In the midst of the fog from the fog machine and the flash of the strobe light, I see Carrie freaking out. I asked her what was wrong, and she says, "You better clean this up." I look to where she is pointing. There is an open box of the game "Apples to Apples," the word game, with the cards on top and some on the table. We had played earlier in the night. Sure that a card game can't be the point of this freakout, I ask, "What?"
"The cards. It's my game. It's a mess. You better fix it."
"Ok, I will chill out. I'll get it later," I say.
"YOU KNOW I DON'T LIKE THAT WORD."
"What? Oh, Jesus, get over it, I just meant chill out."
"I don't like that word 'chill.' Don't say it."
"Well, you're gonna have to get over that. It's a damn card game."
BAM. And with that, I went down like Snooki from the Jersey Shore. Apparently, I enraged homegirl so much that she punched me in the side of the head. So I threw myself at her. I am bigger, I am stronger. She went down into the glass table and started punching my back and shoulders, kicking me with her high heels while I yanked her hair and punched her in the neck. Now, remember, I'm dressed as a French maid right now and she is wearing a sexy cop costume. Catfight?
The worst is that she was so shocked that I fought back. What, exactly, did she expect? Drunk or sober, you hit me in the head for no apparent reason and I'm going to fight back. I will never throw the first punch, but if you punch me, what do you expect?
Carrie has been in and out all day. She came in, said "Hi! I'm going out to dinner. Will you be home later? Ok, cool!" I'm curious to see if she remembers this spectacle at all. Last weekend, she got so drunk she stole a longboard and a deck chair. The weekend before, she cheated on her boyfriend and hooked up with my (weirdly unattractive) friend. So hooray for roommates...
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