bitches get stitches

There are very few instances in which you walk out the door knowing you are going to end up in the hospital before the night’s end, but by 6:30 p.m. this past Saturday I knew. I’ve always had a knack for recognizing a bad decision, even when I’m engaging in and thoroughly enjoying making one, and this weekend was no exception. Everyone knows that the more bad decisions you make in a row, the better those decisions start to seem but I discovered this weekend that you reach a critical mass, at which point a series of bad decisions simply becomes a serious shit show and not in the impressive ‘sorry we party’ type of way.

Mathematically, one might express this phenomenon as such, where B1 et al. is a single bad decision:

B1 < (B1 + B2) < (B1 + B2 + B3) < (B1 + B2 + B3 + B4)

except where

(B1 + B2 + B3 + B4 + B5 + B6) < LOTS OF BLOOD

But blood wasn’t the only thing I was covered in this past Saturday night, and the first person to guess what else I had collected on my face will get dibs on the bloody bar rag I signed and tried to sell to the ER doctor as a Cats In Your Pants memento. I’ll narrow it down for you:

-someone else’s blood
-marshmallow creme
-the remnants of a weave
-cherry jello
-peanut shells
-dog shit
-shame

OK, I lied, two of those things were actually dripping off my face alongside the blood, and shame is most definitely one of them.

Advertisements

2 Comments

  1. Carl

    A dog wearing a weave, that just took a bleeding dump on a pile of peanut shells, after eating cherry jello topped with marshmallow creme. And he felt no shame in it.

Leave a Reply