It's a story with chapters!

[CasualFriday]

CHAPTER 3
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And thus we dated. Things were good. Actually, I think it's okay to say that things were great. I was extremely happy, and assumed she was as well, until a certain event took place.

Probably five or six months into the relationship, I was hanging out with my friends a lot. We did a lot of stuff most teenagers do, but not the overly-stupid shit, like making fun of retarded kids and the like. We just drank. A lot. Keep in mind, I'm 16 years old at this time, slightly overweight, and friends with a rich kid whose parents leave often. I'm half and half Irish and English, and I hate beer. All of these things coming together resulted in copious amounts of hard liquor being put into my body every weekend. I won't get into specifics, but it's a medical miracle I didn't get alcohol poisoning.

Anyways, one such weekend I was with my friends. Drinking was on the agenda, and we planned to make it a good one. I wasn't working at this time, so I was kid of strapped for cash and had about four dollars to my name. My friends and I stopped at the local Wal-Mart where I spent the aforementioned dollars on a gallon of orange juice. We made tracks for my rich friend's house and let the games begin. I drank more screwdrivers than I care to count and enjoyed myself very much.

The morning came. Not just any morning, but Sunday morning. Around 7:30 AM, my mom calls, and I know what's coming. I'm being summoned to church. Normally I wouldn't panic, but I happen to be horribly hungover and still a little drunk. I get up, get my shoes on, and drive home (I know, stupid).

I make it home by some miracle and get into the bathroom before my mom has a chance to notice me. I turn the shower on and promptly vomit the most disgusting neon-orange bile I have ever seen into the toilet. This continues for a bit with the shower masking the sound of my heaves. I hop in and clean myself off, thinking the worst is over. Before I know it I'm in the car with my mom on the way to church as any good boy should.

Then it gets interesting. I start to feel that feeling. You know the one I'm talking about. I look around the car for anything to catch my day-glow refuse, but to no avail. I utter four short words: "I don't feel good" before I'm slamming on the power window button. In the car, with my mom, doing about 35, on the way to church, with my head hanging out the window, I unleash some of the vilest liquid known to man.

Needless to say, my mom was very confused. I made up some excuse about eating too much grease the night before and called my sister to come pick me up from church. She, of course, thought the entire ordeal was hilarious. It's too bad Nicole didn't agree with her. We spent that night on the phone talking things over. She explained very clearly why she was upset and why I was stupid for what I had done. I'll admit, it made a lot of sense. I mean, blowing chunks in the car on the way to church can't be the product of a particularly righteous night.

So I stopped drinking at 16. Really, I didn't miss it. The only thing I missed was the friends I drank with, until Nicole pointed out that the rich one was actually a total asshole and the others were just really low quality people. That dulled the pain a lot. I eventually just stopped caring for them and never saw them outside of the one or two classes I might have with them. Hell, what did I care, I still had my close friends and my beautiful girlfriend, right?

[mountainmage]

Hey, you're back! And with a new chapter no less.

[CasualFriday]

I got some inspiration. Been extremely busy lately, and I do apologize. I've been working at the space center a lot.