So apparently, when I consume very large amounts of alcohol I turn into a rapper. Yes, you read that right, a rapper. Little, shy, size-zero me transforms into a full-fledged cocky and boastful Biggie Smalls. I don't know exactly why I choose to embody a large black male. All I know is that oddly enough I rock the role with drunken excellence.
I say ‘apparently' because prior to this weekend I had no knowledge of my mad skills (truthfully, I still can't recall it happening.) Yet, this past weekend was my 21st birthday- as it turns out, mixing Mr. Boston Vodka, Rumplemintz, Captain Morgan, Bacardi ‘O', Apple Pie and Jagermeister was the recipe that turned me into the Notorious B.I.G, and damn did it feel good.
My birthday started off as any typical 21-year-old girl celebrates it. My roommates threw me a party, all my friends came, I wore a birthday tiara and everyone celebrated accordingly.
I remember running around the party claiming that I was ""scared to puke later in the night."" In fact, I was ""so scared"" that I called my boyfriend around 11 p.m. from my roommate's closet. ""I can see everyone but no one can see me, I am so scared of puking, please come and help MEEEEE,"" I embarrassingly rapped to his voicemail.
And instead of doing the 21-shot salute, I drank great amounts of Apple Pie, which my friend assured me was ""only 50-proof"" (I have yet to believe him on this, since my memory faded after I finished the second glass.)
When midnight hit I trailed behind my friends to the bar. Seeing as I officially was the ""big 2-1"" I decided to call some friends that I grew up with and announce the news to them.
""Yo yo my name is Tay and I'm twenty one today, I thought I would call you up and say hey hey!"" Yes, this is but a briefing of the exact lyrics that I pathetically (and might I add, quite seriously) rapped to one of my friends. Embarrassing.
I drunkenly strutted into the bars still sporting my tiara and showing off my yellow papers with pride. I took a shot with anyone and everyone, and I had no preference of what I was drinking (none that I can remember at least.)
Looking back at my pictures the next morning, I found myself sitting at a bar with my face covered in whip cream and chocolate syrup with a plastic shot glass in my mouth. I was smiling ear-to-ear. The photo after that one involves my friend wiping the mess off my face as I attempted to down another shot.
The next few pictures involve me in various poses holding a loose fist up to my mouth with one hand and pointing my other finger to the camera. I have a dead serious look on my face, and I think that, at the time, I actually convinced myself that I was going to open for a show in the Bronx. Wearing my pink tiara and all, I was incredibly convincing.
I ran home in the rain from the bars around 2 a.m. (according to my boyfriend) I rapped to him on the phone the whole way home.
As I opened my front door I walked into my house and posed in the entry-way for the remaining people at my party (completely dead serious, once again). Looking at the picture the next day, I mimic the classic ""rapper"" pose. Loose crossed arms and a cold stare.
My night formally ended with me stumbling into my room, stripping myself of all articles of clothing and passing out face-down in my bed; waking up to my actual birthday the same way I came into the world, butt-ass naked.
