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The Writings on the Stall

Monday, 2002-09-09

dude, where was my car

A night or two ago (I am not sure about small details from the night) a friend had her 19th birthday party. Basically the only thing I remember is taking pictures of various people in different stages of drunkenness. I won't reveal who, but let's just say they were both alcyhol [misspelling intended] newbies. Soon pictures of the Four Levels of drunkenness will be developed, most likely along with other incriminating pictures. The events of the night might actually be thus revealed.

After getting a ride home from a friend of one of the newbies, I immediately went to sleep. In the morning I walked outside to hop in my car to head to campus. Needless to say I was not going to remember that my car was still at the apartment where the shindig was held.

Gemma and I both stood outside wondering where my car was. Honestly, if it weren't for her realizing where my car was I would probably still be standing outside (one to two days later) going, "Dude, where's my car."

"No, dude, seriously, where's my car."

But back and forth to myself. Which would be really sad. Ah, to be young and stupid.


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