Pre-Emptive StrikeLet me be the first to address what is certain to become controversial, as a few other bloggers weigh in with their perspectives.
I did not pass out at 6PM in Lil' Otis' nursery last night.I did...
· Catch a case of the spins, followed by a significant episode of flop sweats.
· Barely make it up the stairs to find a place to lie down.
Gracie happened to be at the top of the stairs, and when I told her I needed somewhere quiet, she pointed me to Lil' Otis' nursery.
· Find a spot on the floor with the closest thing I could grab that resembled a pillow (some sort of stuffed animal), where I anchored myself for awhile
without falling asleep.· Eventually make it to a side bedroom where I took off my soaked-with-sweat shirt and laid down on the futon.
·
Irk one blogger who found his ability to take a covert nap limited by my use of the futon, and
amuse two other bloggers who came in "to check on me," or "to giggle at the sight of BG shirtless and wasted."
· Get my shit together after about an hour to make my way back downstairs where everyone had assumed I had "passed out."
I believe firmly the definition of "passed out" is rigid in the "loss of consciousness" part, and therefore I can assure all my friends that I did
not pass out. But I sure as hell am done catching the spins like I did, an event that was regretfully preventable when I ignored my usual brand of common sense, which meant that getting in trouble in this regard was a near-guarantee.
By the way, I heard
Derek puked. So there.