Last night was Roadhouse Night. Every Friday, a bunch of us go to this pizza place in town and drink beer until they throw us out. We rarely order food, even. Just many pitchers of beer. It's all very odd. Roadhouse doesn't even have anything good to drink. Miller HighLife, yo. But there is shitty beer in abundance. No one even has to order it. It just sort of materializes on the table. So, we drink it, and then, like magic, the Beer Fairy comes and refills the pitchers. Good times.

Last night, I drank a lot. I usually try to exercise some restraint, because I work at the restaurant every Saturday morning. Last night, I was drunk enough to start flashing people. These things happen sometimes.

Then, while walking home, I fell down. The curb was all covered with leaves, and I missed it completely. It hurt, even through the mass quantities of beer. I limped home and passed out.

At like 4am, I woke from sheer agonizing pain. D. had stayed up all night, and offered to drive me to the hospital. I refused. We so can't afford a hospital visit right now. I limped back to bed. Afer lying in bed for an hour, I realized there was simply no way I could work today.

I called Lusy, and explained that I had fallen down while walking home and could not work today. I cleverly omitted the part about how this had happened a good four hours after she had let me leave work early to "get some sleep." Even hungover and in blinding pain, I'm pretty smart sometimes.

My ankle hurt when I applied any pressure at all, and even when I looked at it too hard. It had swelled up to about three times the size a mortal ankle should be. Finally, I decided I really should maybe have it looked at.

I got x-rays and everything. Turns out it's just a sprain, but the doctor agreed that I should not work today. If I spend the whole day with pillows and icepacks, I should be healed enough to work tomorrow, but I have to wear the stupid splint thing for a week. Feh.

So, I'm spending today feeling like the poster child for incompetent alcoholism. I know it could have been a lot worse. I could have gotten so drunk that I ended up a tattooed white slave in Singapore or something. In a way, though, that makes it even worse. I don't even get a good story out of this. I got drunk, and hurt myself just barely enough to be embarrassing. Alcohol sucks.

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