Drinking Rule #18

NEVER drink a fifth of vodka before a concert you don't want to black out at.

This rule came through experience. (Actually now that I think about it, so did most of the rules)

Two summers ago was the best summer of my life. Although, I do plan to change that this summer. (I'm going to Bonnaroo, cant effing wait!) One of the highlights of that summer was getting front row center tickets to see Flight of the Conchords. They rock my (business) socks right off. I love the show, love the songs, love them too. They are so funny. If you know them, then you know what I'm talking about. Anyways.. so my good friend Laura scores these amazing tickets, and she invites me to go with her. FUCK YES. I'm so excited I could hump a midget.

Day of the concert arrives (its at the Fox Theater in Detroit, which is a fancy schmancy little place) and we get all dressed up. I wear some slutty leopard print thing, and she wears some whorish black little dress. We think were hotter than your grandpas crotch. So we come up with this great idea.. "Hey since were cheap, lets buy a fifth of vodka to drink in the parking lot before the show". (Drinks at the Fox are stupid expensive). So we do. We go to the store and pick out some red flavored vodka and some juice to chase it with. Then we are on the road! Cant wait to get there.. ahhh cant wait. Go faster Laura FUCK! This is one of the most exciting things that has EVER happened to me. Whether that's sad or awesome, you be the judge.
Once in the parking lot, we open the bottle and chug away. "Wow, this is going down easy, its actually really good". We pass the bottle back and forth.. chasing the rubbing alcohol with some orangepineapplestraberrybananapeach shit. Before we know it, the bottle is empty and we are a little drunk.. but the good kind of drunk. The kind where you feel like you could kick any one's ass. The kind of drunk where you are cooler than everyone else... you know it, they know it, everyone knows it... and they're all jealous. That kind of drunk. We fix our hair, fix our lip gloss, push our boobs up and out (so they look bigger than they actually are) take a few pictures of ourselves, and then climb out of the car. My skirt was so short, I'm sure I flashed my beaver to a few innocent bystanders.
We stumble inside the building.. whats the first thing we do? Find the bar. We are already on a roll.. might as well not stop there, right? We both get a double vodka and tonic. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH US. We order the drink, and while waiting for it we take a look around the lobby. "Where is everyone?" "How late are we?" Well we were late, and the show started about 15 minutes ago. We grab the drink and book it for the stage. Now, the fox theater is a nice theater with red velvet seats.. and everything is fancy, and most people are sitting down. We come charging down the isle.. laughing the whole way because we are so drunk. I can hardly stand on my own and we have to walk all the way to the very front of the theater. One of the singers (Bret) in the band literally says into his microphone "Thank you for being late ladies, you're ruining our whole show right now". We giggle because we think hes hitting on us, walk in front of EVERYONE and we take our seats.

The guys are so close we can reach out and touch them.. too bad all we have interest in is taking pictures of ourselves. We are sitting in the front row.. taking pictures of OURSELVES. Bret and Jemaine keep looking at us.. right? They're totally looking RIGHT AT US. It must be because they have just fallen in love at first site and they want to impregnate us with their love children. OhmyfuckinggodhowdoIlook?! (In all actuality they were probably wondering "Who are these bitches who come into our show late, walk in front of everyone in the middle of a song, and sit in the front row and take pictures of themselves while we play?!") Every person sitting around us wants to slice our throats by this point.

Everything is so awesome. I wish I could remember the show.. something, anything! The last thing I remember was rushing the stage and grabbing Bret's crotch. I think Laura even got a picture, because we wanted to show everyone how awesome we were. So after the weiner petting I cant remember a damn thing from that night. Someone must have caught me.. and erased the night from my memory, so I wouldn't have to live with the embarrassment for the rest of my life. All I know is my boyfriend at the time found us walking in Detroit after the concert with no shoes on. I repeat - WITH NO SHOES ON! In Detroit that is fucking living on the edge. You could step on a broken bottle covered in Aids, you could step on a needle covered in Aids, a bloody tissue covered in Aids, or even a rat with Aids. The possibilities are endless... but you WILL get Aids.
Breakdown of the night: Got ready - Got into car - Bought liquor - Drove to concert - Drank liquor - Went into show and ordered more drinks - Walked in late and got called out - Annoyed everyone in theater during the whole damn concert - Grabbed Bret's crotch - Cant remember - Cant remember - Cant remember - Went pee - Cant remember - Cant remember - Hey look, we know that person in that car yelling at us - Hey wait that's my boyfriend! - Hey wait, where the fuck are my shoes - Hey wait, why am I in Detroit still? - Hey wait, this homeless man is NOT LAURA - Holy shit I'm scared.
I woke up out of my drunken coma for a moment. Looked around me and thought "What has my fucking life come to?". I was in the ghetto. Homeless people sleeping on the street all around me, I look like a hooker, I am bare foot, and my feet were sicknasty dirty. I could not stop laughing. Why was everything so funny and awesome? We got into my boyfriends car, and he took us home. Thank god he came to save us. I'm not sure if I called him, or if his bat signal went off and he just knew. Either way, thank God. Some pimp could have caught me... and Id be on the streets right now ass-fucking for crack.

I think I puked for 2 days after that. My feet were stained with a black layer of Idontknowwhat for a week. Of course everyone wanted to know how awesome the show was. "You had front row center! That's crazy!! How fucking awesome was that concert? I bet you could lick the sweat off Jemaine's balls!!" Then I have to pretend like I had the best time of my life, and talk about all the songs they sang (which I cant even remember one fucking song they sang that night). I'm just living a big fat lie.

Moral of the story : Do not spend $200 on concert tickets, then drink a whole fifth of vodka. I might as well just stayed home and took a shit, and wiped my ass with hundred dollar bills. Because what I did was pretty much the same fucking thing. God, I wish I could remember that concert.