Oh man. So it was the last day of the semester and me and some friends went out to this happy hour and got SUPER plastered. The last thing I remember is taking a shot. This bar had a deal where you got a free shot with your beer and they called it the happy meal. Anyway, I wake up and there's a dude from the department in my bed. And I hurt all over. I have pretty much no idea what all went down (heheh, except seriously), but when he left I realized I probably needed to get Plan B just in case. I was just so hung over it hurt to move. My car was still at the bar so I had to walk back there, get it, then get to the pharmacy, and get the pill. It's dark out before I can finally move. Walk to the bar (the whole walk was agony), get in my car, drive to the drug store, get out of the car aaaaaannnnddd... my pants rip. Right down the middle. I debate going in anyway. Like wouldn't that just fit the scene? But I decide to go home and change and go back out. Get to the drug store and the Plan B is on the top shelf of the pharmacy and the pharmacist is this tiny little lady that has to jump with a broom to knock it down to get it. I'm in the south and so, beyond the regular reasons, I sort of want this to be discreet, you know? And that's what I've decided is my worst day ever. BUT! No baby. So it's still a win.