A drunken mess.
Hot mess express.
I went to college in a small town that has a plethora of bars on Main street, which I also happened to live and work on.
I also worked for the majority of my time in college at restaurants as a waitress.
If you have ever worked in the food industry you know that your job is an after thought and your life is a party.
I went into work between 3-4pm and got out of work between 11pm and 2 am.
What else was I going to do with my life but party hardy.
Crazy enough I still had a very hard work ethic and was working about 60 hours a week while maintaining good grade in all of my classes....uh thank ya.
Mama knows how to multi-task.
I made good money where I worked and my rent was cheap. Helloooo bar tabs.
I also was good friends with half of the bartenders in town so I tended to get deals...or at least I thought I did.
While I had a lot of friends through school, most of my close friends where the people I worked with. Like my managers... awko-taco.
Most of our really busy days where days I wanted off too... like my graduation.
So my managers/friends/inabliers made me a deal which was more of a bet.
I could have graduation off, if I worked a double the next day, AND if I made it into work ON TIME I could be the first to get out.
I was made in the shade, or so I thought. My so called friends also wanted to celebrate my actually graduating, because in their words they thought I was lying about going to the college, so there were many many many tequilla shots.
There was dancing,
mostly done by me alone, and more shots.
When the bars closed, we were WAY to awesome to go home.
So we went to an after party that had jello shots, and more booze.
When my amazing friend Erica decided it was time to put me to bed, we started the walk home.
Everything about the town I was about to move out of seemed soooo amazing.
I loved every one, and every house, and every flower garden, and I LOVED that pink flamingo.
I neeeeeeded that pink flamingo.
I walked right up to the house and took it and hugged it and loved it.
And then we stopped at another party, because...duh it was graduation night.
My flamingo was the life of the party.
Next thing I know my phone is blowing up and so is my head.
I open one eye to read a text from Erica that said "Brush your teeth I'm down stairs"
I opened the other eye, and there she was, my pink flamingo.
I didn't listen I just grabbed my purse and went downstairs.
My savior had everything I needed for work, and she even got me there on time.
They didn't say I had to be sober.