plastic.shake.up.snow. | “After the first glass, you see things as you wish...

“After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally, you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.”
- Oscar Wilde

Oh, boy. Let me just say that I had romantic preconceived notions about absinthe.
My good friend @Forlackofpassion spent some time over in the Czech Republic, and came home with a bottle of Czech Absinthe. We proceeded to casually drink it one evening. Most of the bottle.
What I’ll tell you is that at the end of the night… I was dropped off at my house. I suddenly realized I didn’t have my keys and proceeded to stalk the perimeter of the house. I think my thought process was that people might think I was a burglar. So it made SO much sense to ACT like a burglar, thereby canceling out any onlookers suspicions.
Because clearly:
Not trying to be a burglar = “Oh hey, I think someone is breaking into Nick’s house”
Totally acting like a burglar = “Oh, it’s probably just Nick locked out”.
I proceeded to try every window and door… to no avail. All but the little tiny window to the bathroom. You know, that window that is juuuuuust too high to reach? Yeah. That one.
I piled up what could only be the loosest assortment of non-sturdy materials, and propelled myself up away from the instantaneous crash of said materials below. After what seems like an eternity of wondering why I’ve spent my entire adult life ignoring the notion of upper body strength, I managed to get my leg through the window. It was totally working.
Enthused at the sudden notion of actually sleeping in my bed as opposed to the unwelcoming blanket that is a New England winters night, I threw caution to the wind and forced my body through the open window all at once. Not accounting for the 4 - 5 drop…. into the bath tub.
I slammed my shoulder against the faucet on the way down (thankfully not damaging… the faucet.) and felt a horrendous jabbing sensation in my thigh as I lay sprawled across the porcelain. Trying to put a cause to the extremely painful effect led my hand to dig into the pocket of my jeans. I had found the culprit.
My house keys.
#drinkresponsiblykids

“After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally, you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.”

- Oscar Wilde

Oh, boy. Let me just say that I had romantic preconceived notions about absinthe.

My good friend @Forlackofpassion spent some time over in the Czech Republic, and came home with a bottle of Czech Absinthe. We proceeded to casually drink it one evening. Most of the bottle.

What I’ll tell you is that at the end of the night… I was dropped off at my house. I suddenly realized I didn’t have my keys and proceeded to stalk the perimeter of the house. I think my thought process was that people might think I was a burglar. So it made SO much sense to ACT like a burglar, thereby canceling out any onlookers suspicions.

Because clearly:

Not trying to be a burglar = “Oh hey, I think someone is breaking into Nick’s house”

Totally acting like a burglar = “Oh, it’s probably just Nick locked out”.

I proceeded to try every window and door… to no avail. All but the little tiny window to the bathroom. You know, that window that is juuuuuust too high to reach? Yeah. That one.

I piled up what could only be the loosest assortment of non-sturdy materials, and propelled myself up away from the instantaneous crash of said materials below. After what seems like an eternity of wondering why I’ve spent my entire adult life ignoring the notion of upper body strength, I managed to get my leg through the window. It was totally working.

Enthused at the sudden notion of actually sleeping in my bed as opposed to the unwelcoming blanket that is a New England winters night, I threw caution to the wind and forced my body through the open window all at once. Not accounting for the 4 - 5 drop…. into the bath tub.

I slammed my shoulder against the faucet on the way down (thankfully not damaging… the faucet.) and felt a horrendous jabbing sensation in my thigh as I lay sprawled across the porcelain. Trying to put a cause to the extremely painful effect led my hand to dig into the pocket of my jeans. I had found the culprit.

My house keys.

#drinkresponsiblykids

(Source: ofcaprices, via dammitsammm)