Later that week, I talked to the guy (that I like) about the message, and he said not to worry, that he had 20 shots of tequila and got a ride home from a hobo

The last day of school before finals was on a Wednesday and there were all of these huge parties at the fraternity houses, to celebrate Christmas and the end of the semester. So a bunch of my sorority sisters and I went to this Phi-Kapp party where they had like 4,000 Jell-O shots and an open bar with anything that you wanted. It was probably the best party that I had been to all year. Within an hour, I had consumed about 10 Jell-O shots and was pissed that I wasn't drunk yet, so I added another 5 hard alcohol drinks to my system. My night really got started after that.

Somehow I started dancing with this guy who kept grabbing my ass and telling me that he was "an ass guy and not a boob guy" even though my boobs were "very nice." As we were dancing, my friend's boyfriend had just broken up with her and when she saw him dancing with another girl, she chucked a full beer can at him. That was very Jerry Springer-like.

Later, I met up with another one of my sorority sisters and we drove to a different party closer to campus. By the time we got there, I was so drunk I couldn't feel my feet or hands anymore. The guy that I have the biggest thing for was there and I was so ready to put my moves on him; there is never a better time to say how you feel, than when you're drunk, right?

We talked for a little bit and then he moved on and started talking to some other girls. This really pissed me off and I started going around to all of his frat brothers telling them that he was gay because he wasn't gettin' with this fine piece of ass (me). I went on and on like this for about 2 hours until finally I decided that I was going to walk home (in the pouring rain, mind you). Some of my friends were leaving too so they said that they would give me a ride but I said that it was no big deal and that I was going to cry and walk home.

So, I started walking across the street when my friend grabbed me and we both fell face first into a gutter that had like 2 feet of water in it. It was absolutely disgusting. I noticed that I had cut my arm and was bleeding but I couldn't even feel it. This seemed very funny to both of us and we began cracking up.

I finally got home and told my roommate about my night--about the problem with the guy that I like, etc. She suggested that I leave him a message and tell him how much I liked him. Being in the drunken state that I was, this sounded like clearly the best thing to do.

I managed to talk about how much I liked him for a full 3 minutes until the machine (mercifully) cut me off. After that, all I remembered was sitting in my closet trying to talk to one of my friends and having the bookshelf in my closet fall on top of me. It crashed down right onto my head really hard. Luckily my roommate awoke from the sounds of the crash and she pulled the bookshelf off of me and dragged me out of the closet. When I woke up in the morning and remembered my previous night's drunk-dialing, I frantically called back and tried to erase the message, but he had already picked it up.

I'm still remembering bits and pieces of what happened the night before like me freak dancing with this one guy in a kitchen holding a pot in my hand for some reason.

Later that week, I talked to the guy (that I like) about the message, and he said not to worry, that he had 20 shots of tequila and got a ride home from a hobo. That made me feel a lot better.

The End! (Of my drunk dialing!)