I enjoyed some Bicardi Limon on Friday night. I don't know why, but Limon turns me crazy. On an average night of drinking I'll be loud and funny. With Limon, epic memories are made.

For instance, this Friday we went to an apartment party at some girls place that we met on Spring Brak in Panama City. We were pretty, pretty, pretty toasty before we even got there. In the kitchen there was a chalk board where people were putting notes like 'Jen is hot!' and 'Thanks for the party!' I decided to erase everything and wrote "I Heart Hasselhoff" in pink chalk. Then I found a twinkie and put it in my jeans to make my bulge look bigger. I started looking through cabinets asking where the pancake mix was. I found a marketing book and pretended to read it for 5 minutes. My presence to the party was definitely felt.

The next 2 hours consisted of:

  • introducing myself to everyone as Todd
  • kicking ass at flip cup
  • forgetting some attractive spanish girl's name
  • egging on a fight to happen between two dudes I didn't know
  • threatening to throw a DVD box onto the dance circle
  • moving a 200 lb recliner all by myself

At around 1:00 my crew decided it was time to head downtown. Before I left I decided to steal a portrait of the girls that lived at the apartment off the wall. It was a glamour shot of them right out of High School. They are all relatively attractive so I decided it would look nice on my mantle at my apartment. What was awesome was as I was taking it and leaving the party I heard someone say "Todd? Todd? What are you doing, Todd?" Haha. Todd was going downtown.

We got to Logan's at about 1:30. It was there I ran into Stacy...who was a friend of a friend. I knew her pretty well, but our mutual friend had graduated so I really don't talk to her anymore. We started talking about life in the crowded bar, when someone passing by bumped into her pretty hard. She looked pissed, and I asked if the guy had grabbed her ass or something like that. She said no and I said that was too bad. Then I grabbed her ass.

Apparently Stacey didn't think that was as funny as I did. My apology didn't shake the look of fury on her face...so I improvised. I told her that I was sorry, but I hadn't been myself lately. When she asked why, I told her it was because about a week and a half ago I stabbed some homeless guy.

Now - I didn't expect her to believe this...but somehow her face changed from fury to worry. I went on to come up with story that I was coming back from an interview when a homeless guy on drugs jumped me. I told her that he managed to stab my side...but I was able to wrestle away his knife and stab him in the chest. When Stacey asked where I was stabbed, I pointed to below my arm pit and told her that I still had 12 stitches. I even looked like I was in pain when I lifted my arm up. Well...Stacey bought the whole thing...I feel kinda bad about it now. But at the same time: Hahahaha.

Well eventually the bar closed and my night of theft and story-telling was over. Phil looked confused when I came home with a portrait of these chicks he'd never seen before. He looked even more confused when I spiked our ironing board and yelled that I hated that thing. What a night.