[You know how I previously wrote that if you talk books with me, I'll love you forever? Redacted. If you talk drunken debauchery with me, I'll love you forever. Is there anything funnier than a good drunken story? A college journalism friend of mine, Cari from Flipflops in the Rain, might be somewhat of a fair-weather blogger, but the girl can drink. Therefore, I'll love her forever. She's shared some of her greyed-out Seattle memories here for us. And since it's Friday, go out and make some of your own funny drunken debauchery stories this weekend! Please?]

I’ve known Jeanna since college, but other than knowing that she always matched her shoes to her bags to her accessories, I didn’t know too much about her. It wasn’t until I started blog-stalking her that I realized how much we actually had in common. I could run through a list of boring similarities (We have fluffy cats! We love San Francisco!), but really, the most important thing to know is that we both like to go out, drink and have a good (sometimes ridiculous) time.

Lucky for me, drunken debauchery was one of the three stipulations to write about for this endeavor in guest blogging (an interesting proposition to someone who’s generally too lazy to post on her own blog). So, in honor of ThatsWhatJeSaid’s Seattle roots, I thought I’d pull up one of my own fabulous Seattle stories that rivaled the time Jeanna peed on a federal building – or perhaps the two times she almost burned her apartment down.

Except I can’t think of anything. Not necessarily because I don’t have any drunken stories that funny (although I don’t), but because I have a tendency to forget most of the awesomely embarrassing details from my nights on the town. This could be considered a good thing – unless of course you have friends that love to share your not-so-fine moments over and over and over again until you feel like you actually remember doing it.

So I decided to share a list, in no particular order, of some of the things I apparently did when I lived in the Seattle area:

• Fell asleep under a Pioneer Square bar’s pool table at my brother-in-law’s birthday party. (Pretty sure my family didn’t know I drank then, and they just assumed I was narcoleptic.)
• At the same Pioneer Square bar, jumped up on a bar to dance with my friends and immediately toppled headfirst onto the floor behind the bar, practically taking a bartender out with me. (He shockingly helped me up, made sure I was OK and made me another drink. For those of you not in the know, Pioneer Square’s not exactly the definition of classy.)
• Snuck a flask into a college event at Seahawk Stadium, got yelled at by an employee for doing so, yelled back and told her she was crazy, then ran away before she could confiscate my precious flask. (This is cooler when you consider that I was no longer in college. And even cooler when you know that my mom convinced me to buy that flask.)
• That same night, we crashed in a hotel room underneath the Space Needle, about 15 people deep. As soon as we all got there, I screamed, “I’m taking my pants off now!” and stripped. (I’ve got nice legs.)
• Got kicked out of a bar because my friends stole a fur hat (from a guy?!) and then placed it too close to a candle. (Who puts open flames around drunk people anyway?)
• Sprained my ankle dancing. Woke up the next day with no recollection as to how it became the size of a softball or why I’d slept with a bag of frozen peas. (I never went to the doctor because I was embarrassed he might think I was a drunk. I still have ankle problems.)
• Drank several bottles of wine with some friends, then got lost in the woods on a camping trip and became convinced a bear or wildcat was stalking us. (In my drunken self’s defense, this is an actual possibility in Washington state.)
• A lot of falling-asleep-at-weddings-and-in-random-places stories and running-away-from-friends-thinking-I’m-funny tales. (These ones have pretty much blurred together into one scene anyway.)

The moral of this story is… I miss Seattle. Even though I don’t quite remember it.