So: I have a new drunk/stupid story! (Which brings me to a grand total of two, count them, two drunk/stupid stories. I am so boring.)

The weekend of August 19th, I flew to Arizona for Sarah’s bachelorette party. Sarah is NOT having a wedding (sniffle), but at least she knows how to throw my kind of party: five chicks hanging out, telling stories, and drinking. Even better: three of the five chicks have just become nurses, and already have a good stockpile of funny and/or disgusting tales to tell.

Most of the party took place at the house of one of Sarah’s friends. After several hours of gabbing indoors (topics covered: school, Prozac, divorce, weddings, breast implants, just to name a few), and many, many beers, we adjourned to the patio where those of us who felt like smoking could do so. We didn’t bother to turn the lights on; we just hung out in the dark swinging between topics as wide-ranging as the spread of AIDS and the hamper story. (If you don’t already know the hamper story, I’m not telling it here.)

After beer number seven, I decided to make a trip inside to the bathroom. I stood up, and Sarah’s dog Ruby got up to follow me. It was dark where we were, but well-lit inside the house, so I had no trouble finding the screen door and walking around it…

…BLAMMO, face-first into the sliding glass door I’d forgotten was there.

And then, another, smaller, blammo as Ruby did the exact same thing.

My poor, previously-broken nose was sore for 5 days. But wow… good party.

Hanging out with my old suitemates Sunday morning, not at all hungover (but very, very tan):