Uncle Rusty, I have much to learn from you.

Thursday I got to experience once more the joy of sleeping in, class doesn't start until three thirty, so I didn't need to be up until two o'clockish. Don't worry I woke up much before then, around nine thirty or so I believe. It was nice to have a morning full of time and nothing to do with it. I got to school a little early, bought a few more books for fifty three euro (blah) and found the campus library. It's tucked in this beautiful little corner, and I can't wait for it to be about ten degrees warmer, I will live there!! Italian class was very enjoyable once again. I really like my professor, Mauricio (I'm positive this is not how you spell his name, but it is how it sounds) After class I stopped by a little home store that becca and I found on previous adventures. I managed to find a jumbo sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner for extremely reasonable prices (about a third of what some of my roommates have paid, for a fourth of the product) I returned home ate supper and relaxed. I decided to book my flights for spring break, which did not work out so well. I open four tabs in order to book all flights at the same time, once I finished the process I realized that due to either a mistake on my part, or a glitch of some sort I booked four spots on one flight. Luckily it was one of the thirteen dollar flights and not the expensive one. I'm not sure if a refund will be allowed, but I'm hoping to arrange a credit towards the rest of the flights. We shall see. Two of my roommates were planning to go out, and I decided to join them. The plan was to do a bar crawl for eighteen euros that went to three pubs, with free beer and wine for the first hour, and a shot at each new bar; in addition we would receive a free tee shirt and pizza at the end of the night. When it got down to finding our way there we hit a bit of a brick wall, and decided instead to go to one bar with an open bar from nine until midnight for fifteen euro. The bar was a small hole in the wall place that was extremely well decorated, and consequently had a wonderful atmosphere. I've had a lot of wine recently, and decided to have mixed drinks for the night. Long Island Ice Teas were on the menu, and this is where the story starts to go down hill. By the time we arrived at the bar we had two and half hours of free drinks, I was interested in how many Long Islands I could drink. My original goal was five. The bartender (who looked nearly identical to the man in ferris buelers day off who' takes care of' the car while the kids are in the city) that served me thought it was very amusing that I kept coming back for more. He didn't have to ask when he saw me, he just mixed with a smirk on his face. By Long Island number five, I was doing just fine and decided to set my sights for seven. Mistake. I made it through number six, not that I was able to count at this point, someone told me this morning, and ordered the fatal number seven. By this point I knew it was time to slow down, I stopped about halfway through seven, and tried desperately to sober up. In order to keep my sanity I focused very intently on a few cracks in the wall, trying desperately to keep in control of my body and mind. It did not work, the next conscious thought that I had was, How did I end up puking in this cup? That's right, I puked at the bar, quietly, but not slow enough to keep it from getting on myself. This part is pretty hazy for me, but apparently I threw up in two cups, with enough to spare to get on my jeans. My Uncle Rusty can silently puke into a can, boy do I wish that was the case for me. The good news is I have truly been blessed with great roommates. Emily asked me if I was ok, and I replied with, "I think I need to go home now". No kidding. Leah took me up to the bathroom, handed me a wet paper towel to clean myself off with, and once home helped me find my pajamas, made sure I didn't drown in the shower, and washed my clothes in the Italian washing machine that I could not understand. All in all, a decent night, just embarrassing. The real kicker is that the shower I took while ridiculously intoxicated was steaming hot. Steaming! Too drunk to be able to appreciate it, and now my shower is hot. I somehow managed to get my webcam plugged in, and talked to stu for all of five minutes before he graciously let me pass out. So now I know, I can drink six Long Islands, not seven.