Go booze!

Let's cover the last 3 minutes of my life.

Minute 1 - I'm sitting down, minding my business, watching music videos. Doing math in my head, to prove how smart I am. Since I don't have an audience, this is completely fucking pointless. I'm weird, fuck off. So I get a pretty hard question right (36*22, if you care) right in less than 2 seconds. I'm impressed with myself, so I flip what I've got in my hand up in the air, and catch it.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the remote in my hand. It was my fucking drink. I sit there for the next 40 or so seconds, and take all of this in. Yeah, I'm a little wet.

Minute 2 - I'm obviously disgusted with myself, since my lap is now covered in a Rev. Yes, I'm drinking a Rev. We changed up our "after the bar" drinks. By the way, Damian is passed out, so all the "after the bar" drinks are mine. And one is on my lap. Dammit. So, obviously, I go to get changed. I go in my room to change, and go to sit on the end of my bed. Unfortunately. I miss. I proceed to fall flat on my back, on the floor, in front of my bed. So now, I'm wet, I'm hurting, and I'm fully fucking defeated.

Minute 3 - I write this. Congrats. Now you officially know I'm a drunken fucking loser. Ladies...I'm single!