This is a true story about a bad decision.
Everything I am about to tell you is true.
When I was younger, I was kind of a hellion. I was like, 99% normal and 1% hellion. Which means no one liked to party with me because I am boring when I drink.
I was about 19 or 20 years old. I was living with my Grandma and she told me I had to be in before midnight because she didn't want me to come in and wake up Grandpa in the middle of the night.
So I went out. Now let me explain to you that I am not now, nor have I ever been, like other girls. I prefer liberty spikes to ringlets and black eyeliner to glitter. On that particular night, I was wearing blue plaid pants that were covered in chains and zippers. I also had on a black tank top and a t-shirt, but I don't remember what shirt it was.
I left around 8pm and went to a bomb ass concert. I got in a little fight with some preppy girls but nothing too serious. My friend was with me and we were going to head back to his house to drop him off (we were just friends, nothing more) but we were kind of under the influence of various substances. So we went back to my Grandma's house.
Two things occurred to me as I pulled in the driveway. One: It was like six oclock in the morning. Two: I had a guy with me.
I decided to make my friend sleep in the backseat of my car, figuring Grandma wouldn't look out there. Then to make up for the fact that I was in so late, I came up with a brilliant plan. I would just make it look like I had gotten up really early. Genius factor 11!
This actually worked out okay for a few hours, until my whole family showed up around 10am. I was still in my clothes from the night before, minus the t-shirt, and my heavy black eyeliner was kind of smeared. I pulled it off okay, talking with my family, until everyone moved into the living room. Being the courteous person that I am, I let my aunts and uncles and grandparents use the furniture, while I sat on the floor.
Somehow sitting on the floor turned into slumping on the floor which turned into passed out on the floor.
I have no idea what happened during that three hours. All I know is, I woke up completely sprawled all over the living room floor, with black eyeliner running all over my face and carpet imprints on my cheek. No one was in the room with me anymore. Apparently the sight of my shame was too much to handle.
I got up and wandered into the kitchen. Everyone looked up at me. And NO ONE SAID A WORD. They pretended nothing was wrong, like I hadn't passed the fuck out in the middle of the floor at a family function.
I don't remember anything else about that day, except about ten hours later I remembered that my friend was hidden in the backseat of my car. He was pretty pissed that I forgot him. We got food and I took him home, and I'm pretty sure Grandma knew exactly what was going on, but I, eternally grateful that to this very day she hasn't mentioned it.