Or the account of my decline into barbarism (and all of the lovely, mad people who helped me do it).

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Jumping Fences

Tonight was nothing short of a disaster. I went to a party with Kate, Michelle, and Liz and sipped vodka and tea from a water bottle. BPA free. Some foreigner came up and asked me where I was from. Typical. Then we spotted Pete and I dragged him with me the rest of the night.

"Cops!" False alarm. False alarm. TRUE.

Pete and I ran out the back door. I tore off my suede stilettos and jumped a fence. While going over, my leather bag got stuck, I fell to the ground and yelped. Some girl goes, "Honey, pull yourself together." Bitch, please. I am not drunk, one. Two, you are wearing a sports bra and leggings. Check yourself.

Pete grabbed my shoes from the ground and we ran through someone's backyard and into some bushes. I had no idea where my driver was, and Michelle said she was trying to find me. We were on a back road, so there was no street sign. Pete and others wandered back to the party, but I didn't want to risk getting caught by the cops so I stayed in the forest. Alone. Finally, Kate picked me up and we drove home with Liz and Michelle.

Apparently there was a gate beside the fence. No matter. Jumping it was more fun.

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