JUST SAY NO TO ALCOHOL...

Due to my father's bout with the bottle, I've always had a freakish obsession to stay in control when it comes to my hard liquor intake. I obtsain from it.

I've been exposed to controlled substances at a fairly early age. My mother used to get lifted on herb in the basement while my father was at work. I didn't think anything of it, or wasn't fascinated by them, which is why I never had the "experimental" phase as an adolescent. During high school I only indulged in herb every once in a blue moon. I stayed far away from alcohol until last October.

I attended a conference in New Orleans. The hotel I stayed in was at the corner of Bourbon street. My friend, Linda tagged along with me to celebrate her birthday. She would wait for me to end my day of conferencing, then we'd get decked out in our party uniform (low cut top, tight non-camel toe jeans) and walk up and down the alcohol infested strip.

On our second night out on Bourbon street, I decided that I was going to soak in as much of this infamous strip as possible. The hotel was at the end of the road and I have a good friend with me, so I figured I'd be safe.

I started with a hurricane that came in a huge plastic bucket-like cup. I couldn't taste the alcohol, so I downed it as fast as I could. I thought it would work quicker that way. When we reached the other bar, I accepted all drinks men offered. The drinks kept coming- In small test tubes, jello-shots, sex on the beach...I think I had about four drinks. Then some cute guy, Linda and myself hit up the karaoke club.

I knew the alochol was starting to take effect when I kicked a white girl off the stage who was killing, "Bootylicious". I thought the song needed saving. I got on the stage and WORKED IT OUT! I was soo good the audience began throwing dollars at me. I made a little over $40. I was a brief celebrity after that which lead to more free drinks.

Everything after this is a complete blur. What I'm about to tell you, I have no recollection of and was told to me by witnesses...

Linda, cute guy and I ventured into a comedy club. We walked in and stood, stuck in the doorway.

"Let's here it for Jill Scott and the Chinese restaurant owner!" The audience starts with their chuckles and eewwwwwwws.

Then I allegedly retort: "She's not Chinese, she's Korean you stupid fuck!" The audience starts laughing even harder and the comedian tries to play it off. He starts talking about fighting with females and gives me the staredown, like he's about to do something. The audience is roaring and laughing. He still stares at me with bugged out eyes and holds his mic like a weapon. Then the alcohol did all the talking.

"BOO! NIGGAH! You got a problem?" I hate saying that word, so when I was told that I said this, I couldn't believe it. "You ain't funny.....!" After my long alcohol induced monologue, I was told the comedian dropped his mic and ran off the stage. Because of this feat, we were given even MORE drinks!

All I remember was the three of us (yes, Cute guy followed Linda and I) crawling on the hallway floor and ending up in front of my hotel room door. I managed to open the door and I closed it behind me. I left them outside. Linda's hair was stuck in the door. I plopped on the bed, moaning, laughing and crying at the same time. Then cute guy knocks on the door. I crawl to the door, opened it and he spilled into the room. Linda was still outside. I straddled him and we started groping each other in slow motion. We fell asleep on the floor in that position. Then morning came.

There was vomit EVERYWHERE. It was on the floor, on my clothes, on cute guys clothes, on the walls, on the bed, in cute guys hair.... Where's Linda?!!! I couldn't move. The scene was the perfect, M.A.D.D sponsored after-school special. I tried to get up to clean the mess before cute guy woke up, but I couldn't move. Then the stench hit my nose. It was shit. Cute guy shitted on himself! Thank goodness we didn't do anything. Where's Linda? I peeled off the floor and crawled to the bathroom throwing up again. I threw up five times that morning, not counting the previous night. Shitty Cute Guy woke up, embarassed. From the time he locked himself in the bathroom and ran out of my hotel room, we only spoke one word to each other: "DAYYUUUM." Where's Linda? A Good Samaritan (next door hotel mate) picked her up and let her sleep on their couch. Her and her boyfriend saw us during our drunken stint on the strip. They, along with Linda helped me recount the events:

They told me I flashed any man that looked my way (This explained the countless amounts of vomit covered beads sprawled all over the floor). The comedian really wanted to kick my ass after he stormed off the stage. I let a fireman bury his face in my tits (and someone took a pic of it). I started crying because I lost an earring and demanded the firefighters go look for it. I broke a heel off my shoe and I threw it at the hot dog stand guy. I was pinching guys asses. I bought a cigar from the cigar shop and threw up on the street from my attempt at smoking it. I tried to hook Linda up with a dude with the pick up line, "This is my friend, Linda. She taught me how to give good head. Black dicks are her favorite." I told Shitty cute guy that I'd do him and let him videotape it (I guess that's why he stuck to me the whole night). And the worse thing I did: Drum roll please.........

I threw up while in a club and I pushed a poor girl in it, while I grabbed on to her to hold myself up. Well, if she was heavier instead of a waif, she would have had no problem handling the extra weight.

...And yes to Sobriety.