This is all hearsay, as I don't remember any of it, but.....

A few weekends ago, I went to a Halloween party.
But before I went, I drank. A lot.

The basic situation is as follows:
We're rollin about 10 people deep. Dressed as the "Club Soccer Team." Original, isn't it?
We've all been drinking since about 7pm. We got to the party around 11:30 (I guess?)
I thought it'd be brilliant to run a "warm-up" lap around the party, since we're a soccer team and all. So I did.

Now, fast forward through some beer pong, awkward dancing, prostitutes, shots of jager, jello shots, SoCo, busch light, burps with vomit in them, more awkward dancing, horrible group pictures, and some more busch light.



I find myself in the kitchen, drink in hand. What kind of drink, you ask?
Water. My roommate cut me off. Who saw that coming?

Anyway. Back to the story.

My friend, Ginge (Or Ginger, Diana, Red, etc), was "Emotional" for Halloween. This entails a black hoodies, tight jeans, black chucks, black nail polish, black eye liner, and temporary black hair dye. Yes, you read that right.

Temporary. Black. Hair. Dye.

Now. One thing to keep in mind is that I was very drunk. Blackout, even.

Shocking, I know.

So, Ginge comes up to me, all 4 feet 6 inches, and starts a friendly conversation. We're chatting, I'm probably not paying much attention, because lets face it, when do I ever?

I distinctly remember thinking to myself, at some point in the evening, "I wonder what it'd look like with black dye dripping down her face"...

Now was the time to find out.

I take the for-mentioned cup of water... lift it high above My Little Fire Crotch, and slowly poor it on her head.

And then (apparently) laugh hysterically in her face.

Until she slaps me clear across the right side of my face.


Apparently, along with my common sense, my pain sensors were also MIA....
So I look at Ginge, and with a very serious tone and facial expression, say "You know.... that MIGHT have hurt if I weren't so drunk..."


So she punched me.

Worst part?
I don't even remember what the makeover looked like.
DISCLAIMER: NONE of this, except for the "I wonder what it'd look like..." statement, was relayed by my own memory. EVERYTHING else is what I was told the next morning when I had to ask "Why does my jaw hurt?"

DISCLAIMER #2: I love Ginge. We're back on good terms now.