Two Classy BroadsI have two fairly impressive and pretty painful bruises on both of my knees.
How, you ask? Before your minds set up camp in the gutter, let me just say that I am about to share a personally shameful event. Brace yourselves.
So the Habs (the Montreal Canadiens hockey team, for those non-Canadian readers out there) played Game 6 on Tuesday night. My best friend came over to watch, and we were both getting excited as the game was a lot closer than we had anticipated - a loss would mean the Habs are out of the playoffs.
It comes down to over-time. I, mistakenly, say to my friend "I really hope they don't score in the first two minutes of over-time again, that sucked". All you Habs fans can now blame me for the result. It's exactly what happened - the opposing team scored the series ender 2 minutes into the over-time.
We were devastated, way too much energy had been put into this game. So what do we decide to do? Well, drink of course!
Big EPIC apocalyptic mistake.
Not only do we drink, but we drink about a litre of straight vodka shots. It was so unintentional - we didn't mean to get drunk, and definitely not that drunk.
All this vodka resulted in:
Big girly emotional exchanges
Lying on the floor of my kitchen
Exclamations of love - "You know you're my hetero lifemate and I love you, right?" "I LOVE YOU TOO!!!"
Drunken phone calls to my boyfriend
More drunken phone calls to my boyfriend
Even more vomiting - toilet, sink, bathtub
Crying drunken phone calls to my boyfriend who can hear my best friend vomiting in the background
Drunken phone calls to best friend's parents
Best friend dropping my phone IN THE TOILET
Sleeping on the bathroom floor
The consequences of this purely classy incident are everlasting shame, bruised knees, and a killer hangover.