UPIs

Unidentified Party Injuries: Many years ago I picked up this saying from a bloke in Australia. Yep, boys are blokes in the land of Oz. It's not my favorite word, but I like to stretch my vocab and if I have to go international to make it happen, so be it. SO BE IT, i say!

Unidentified Party Injury, or UPIs as I affectionately like to call them, are the war wounds from a good night out. Mine are most always in the form of bruises- I often look like the victim of a bad car accident. Broken nails, scratches and cuts all make the list of accepted UPIs. Most often, there is no recollection of how these injuries came to be. Hold on Carly Rae's Call Me Maybe is on.. must dance.

And I'm back.

I would like to add a sub category of UPIs. I think I can do that as I pretty much own the rights to the word. Pretty sure it's not even a valid addition, but again, it's my blog and I can do as I like. *please note that I said that in a snotty British accent.

With the power vested in me (by no one) I proclaim Lost Items to officially fall under UPIs. The only reason I even am broaching this is essentially so I could segue into telling you about my really terrible streak of losing things lately. A confession perhaps it could be considered.

Two weekends ago I got slightly boozy and lost my clutch. No wallet, no cell phone, no lip gloss for TWO DAYS! I was super duper lucky and it was found and I got it couriered back to me. Everything intact, pretty amazing. Total happy ending on that one, which means that I totally didn't learn any kind of lesson. Clearly - considering last night I somehow managed to lose my wallet AGAIN (that makes 2 out of 3 weekends). We went on a boat cruise Saturday and ended up at a friends house and the bar afterwards. A full 12 hours of drinking, it would be fair to say that I had a few- like thirty - drinks too many. So many bad choices. I ended up with a mad (or perhaps disappointed, which is way worse) boyfriend; no idea where my wallet had gone to; and a missing bathroom bag. PS i AM super sorry, Nick.

Man oh man. Waking up with a pile of regrets, still dressed in last night's clothes and remembering the idiot face I proved myself to be the previous evening sure makes for a less than sunshiney Sunday morning. I took stock of my UPIs and found some pretty impressive bruises, a cut on my finger from a shotgunning stint gone wrong, and a lump on the back of my head from unknown origin. Unfortunately it's impractical to spend the entire day in *face palm* position, so I had to live with myself and continue on.

After checking around for my wallet (to no avail), we watched the musical portion of the Olympic Closing Ceremonies - super enjoyable -and then I moseyed on home and proceeded to berate myself and then went to bed early.

The next morning I awoke to a message from Johnny saying he had my wallet and bathroom bag. I flew out of bed and did a little jig. ... what? never seen me jig before? It's a sight to behold- lemme tell ya! Another lesson gone unlearned. Although I AM actively trying to figure out a way to not lose my stuff when I go out drinking. So far I have no solutions. Someone suggested I try drinking LESS. I filed that under Nahhhhhhhhhhhh.