first impressions

i like to think that, in general, i make a good first impression.  i am generally polite, generally well-groomed, and generally brush my teeth before going out into public.  i am only mildly offensive (perhaps medium-grade, depending on the new individual) upon first meeting and happy to give an introductory hug to let you know i like you.

last friday night was an exception.  yes, i brushed my teeth and was generally well-groomed.  i eventually provided the "nice to meet you" hug.  but i was otherwise out of sorts.

let's start from the beginning.

i had the great pleasure of spending time with one of my greatest girlfriends, cramming into a car full of her buds and heading downtown for a local fashion show and a drink or two.

...or two my ass...but i digress.

we made a bar stop prior to the show.  beer #1 down with great success.  enjoyable, refreshing, and hoppy.  mmmm.

i successfully avoided taking shots from a passed-around flask despite the chilly weather.  i know myself well enough to know that potent shit does not mix well with amy q.  and so i kept my drink tab to 1.  until after the show.

this is where things get fuzzy.

i distinctly remember physically removing a small boy from our path as my friend and i took over the men's bathroom.  ladies first, right?

we attended an after-party at a fun art gallery downtown.  free-flowing beer, wine, etc.  dangerous.  i partook in two, and proceeded to do the following:

blurry, but evidence: i snagged an opportunity to cup her chest.  apparently, right in front of my friend's parents.  i mentioned to them that i couldn't help myself, she has great boobs.  her mother agreed: "she sure does."  validation.

two beers down at the art gallery.  the cold no longer exists, my heels are not quite so painful on my poor toes.  let's have another!

we move it to a nearby location and proceed to peruse the menu.  i opt for a watermelon mixed drink.  which is not a good idea.  at this point, i was ready to vomit melon if i had to have another sip.  the waitress kindly swapped it for a dependable glass of sparkling rose.  beautiful.

all is good in the land of the tipsy.  my comrades have, without a doubt, consumed more than i have.  they are also greater ballers than i am.  and therein lies my error.

trying to play with the big boys, i surpassed my 2 drink limit.  this limit i imposed on myself not for safety sake, not for the sake of my budget, but rather for the sake of all those around me.  my tolerance is that of a little girl, and my body is quick to punish.

drive home proceeds: 5 of us packed in a car, each change of lanes feels like a 180 degree spin, my stomach is churning and my head knows the danger: amy, do not puke in this car.

in through my nose, out through my mouth, one of the few times my ceaseless chatter is subdued.

i make it home just in time.  quick good-byes, slamming car door, run into the house.

only to be greeted by my boyfriend, recently arrived from chicago, and his college buddy whom i'm meeting for the very first time.  fantastic.

"hey sweetie!" "hello Amy" ...first impressions are important, but spewing on a potential new friend is just not in my playbook.

"nice to meet you - i'm going to go puke now."

i run upstairs, upheaval number one occurs.

brush the teeth, wash the hands, stroll downstairs for a proper introduction.  shake of the hand, and even a hug is allowed after i proclaim "i swear i didn't puke on myself."  all is well for approximately one minute until...

"it's time.  puking again.  have a great night."

round two.  followed by round three.

first impression officially gone awry.  but i had a great time :)