The last thing I hear is my heels, steady as a metronome, echoing through the lobby. Fragmentary blackouts seem to happen at a blood-alcohol content around 0. For the song by Buckcherry, see Too Drunk Articles lacking sources from June All articles lacking sources Articles with hAudio microformats All articles with unsourced statements Articles with unsourced statements from January Articles with hAudio microformats All articles with unsourced statements Articles with unsourced statements from April
Archived from the original on June 5,
How did I get here? These were the responses I got from female friends when I told them about my drunken escapades. Maybe I should have been relieved, but I had the haunted shivers of a woman who felt the bullet whizz past her face. All I keep thinking is: I was on my way to the elevator when I realised I did not have my bag: But one is louder than the others. I collapse beside him and weave my legs through his.