Um, I drank a few too many cocktails in my lil' coconut, did a Jazzercise routine for Jill, had too many Jell-O shots to count, ran into my favorite DG alum, got smacked on the tush once or twice, danced 'til I couldn't dance no more, ended up crying over nothing and sleeping on Jill's couch. And drunk dialing The Crush because I'm classy and smooth like that.
My mom is probably horrified right now. I don't blame her. I think I've officially been initiated into the Pig Roast hall of fame. Or shame. I'm in good company, however.
On a completely unrelated note, I broke my nose yesterday.