hella good

"meaghan!" justin yells, raising his plastic beer cup a bit in the air. "you're looking woefully sober!"

i smile, raise my mug full of water, and take a sip. "that's because i am." i reply. "well, sort of. in an alcoholic sense, i mean. entirely sober that way. but not all ways."

justin looks confused. pete leans in and and yells so as to be heard above the din "she's REALLY stoned." he turns to me. "i never expected this of you, young lady."

we both crack up.

last night, much to the shock and awe of a few people, i actually left my hermit like state and ventured out to the kegger at kwende and adam's house. after an adventurous trip to tuesday's [read: the fucking bus never came so i bloody well walked from the carling o-train stop], a spectacular wipe out on the ice in front of tuesday's house while trying to get ito the cab we called, we arrived to a house that had about three hundred people in it.

the bar and kegs were in the basement, the ground floor was transformed into the ultimate dance party with wicked music, and i never onceventured upstairs because the stairways were an entire disaster.

when the seven or eight cops that had been called showed up around two, it was like watching a clown car empty out.

BAM!