The Catherinette Chronicles

Should I tell you about the time that I got so hammered in London that I ran around the city, by myself, without a coat or a purse until 7:00 am?  And how when I sobered up I had no recollection of where all my stuff was?  And how there was an explosion of orange stuff all over my pants?  And how I have vague memories of sitting in a cab crying?

You’d probably like to hear about that, wouldn’t you?  Oh, I know how you are.  You’d probably think it’s funny that I went out drinking with my cousin, and that we each had 4 pints of cider and 2 bottles of wine.  Then we played true confessions and I started crying in the bar.  Then I was so wasted that he told me I had to go stay with him in his dorm room.  Only I was too upset and told him I wanted to go back to my hotel-only I couldn’t remember where the hell it was.  When I started walking away, he grabbed my purse, and I let him have it.  Then I started running, and he grabbed my coat-which I shrugged out of.  Then he grabbed my sweater, and I did the same thing.  Then I took off running down the street and he couldn’t catch me.

Nothing like wandering around the streets of London at from 2-7 in the morning in JANUARY without a coat or any money.  I vaguely remember sitting on a bench in some office park, and walking for about an hour trying to figure out where my hotel was.  I even remember sitting outside St. Paul’s Cathedral at about 6 AM thinking that maybe I’ll just jump the stiles at the tube stop and take the tube back to my hotel (this is when I remembered where I was staying).  When I saw all the cops, I decided that was a bad plan.

I finally made it back to my hotel and passed out.  Let me tell you, that hangover I had when I woke up at 8 PM?  Not pretty.

Time to vote for me on Humor Blogs!