My night?
Oh wouldn’t you like to know?
In truth,
I’d like to know too…
I woke with my brain outside of my head,
With my hair in a deluge of knots;
My vision the quality of early TV,
With all the wrong colours and dots.
A bruise in the shape of Australia,
Tasmania included there too;
My legs the consistency of unset jelly,
That’s how I found the tattoo.
To be honest it’s all a bit of a blur,
There’s nothing in here that makes sense;
My friends are all saying that they feel the same,
How did we get into this mess?
But then they walk in,
The only smart thinker;
All smiley and loud,
Our one proud non-drinker.
“You couldn’t be stopped!
I did try n’ tell ya’…
But nothing could be done,
Once you’d brought out Tequila!”
Always a bad start to any night.
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The origin story for many a tattoo I bet.
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Not a drinker, however, I can say I have been on the DD side of a night that starts with tequila. Quite entertaining to watch.
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It’s never a good sign when you have bruises in the shapes of small continents.
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Haha!!! “What does your tattoo mean?” “It means don’t drink too much!”
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