But my brother is a dick and tried to kill me last night. We went out to a birthday party last night, and it was at a place my brother goes to all the time. So we're sitting there, with our party of nine (plus a baby), waiting for a table, and Terry goes, "Do you want a bucket of rum?"
And I was so confused and intrigued by this question, that I said yes. Despite having a piece of chicken for breakfast, and nothing else all day. And yeah. I was given an actual sandcastle bucket, complete with shovel, full of rum. And it was delicious. And I knew that this was going to turn into a drinking night, so when the breadsticks came, I had a bunch of those. Because all that rum on an empty stomach would have been really stupid.
When our buckets ran dry, Terry decided that I needed something called a Godzilla. Which came in a 1.5 pint glass, and was bright pink. It was also delicious, but I did not realise until after that it was almost entirely vodka, with some fruity juice to hide the fact that it was almost entirely vodka. So, all that + a million breadsticks + a personal pan pizza = very unhappy me by the end of the evening. I was fine, as long as I didn't have to stand, so while everyone was deciding on whether or not we actually wanted to go, I was sat on the curb in the car park, being annoyed at being tricked into that much vodka.
Going home was pretty uneventful, since it was all freeway driving, and thus fairly smooth. Until we got off the freeway, and had to deal with speed bumps and crap. And that was when I demanded to be let out in a Home Depot car park, because I was absolutely convinced I was going to puke. I sat down on another curb, and luckily did not puke, but it was kind of rough for a few minutes. When I started to walk home a few minutes later, I found my mum walking out to find me, to make sure I wasn't dead or something.
When I'd got out of the car, I just kind of handed everything to my mum. Leftover pizza box, rum bucket, the napkin I'd accidentally stolen, my hat, and my glasses. Getting home in the dark without my glasses was interesting, but I had such a roaring headache that I didn't even want to wear them. So I came home, set up camp on the sofa, and stayed there all night. My mum kept teasing me, asking if I wanted cake and ice cream, and then laughing when I'd tell her to go away.
This morning, I got up, decided that a fitted shirt and vaguely uncomfortable pants suck, so I precariously went upstairs and changed into my pyjamas. Then I came into the kitchen and found my rum bucket and napkin in the sink. I grabbed my pizza out of the fridge, put on my hat, and... my glasses are nowhere to be found. My mother's not responding to my emails, so I'm not sure if she put them in her handbag, or if they're still in the car, or where they are. I'm hoping they're somewhere, in one piece, because I don't want to order a new pair. I like that pair.
Also, if I have to leave the house to go babysit today, like I was told I may wind up having to do, it's really going to suck without my glasses.