In every new relationship, there are milestones; for some people that means like a first kiss or a first “sleepover,” but for accident-prone people like myself, this means some sort of injury. Soon after we began dating, my boyfriend and I were hanging out at my house watching movies when I ran (literally) out of my room and slid along the floor until my feet swept out from under me and I was flat on the floor. There were about 5 seconds of complete silence until I heard my mom yell “CIERRA, WHAT FELL?”
“Me!” I yelled.
Accident-prone milestone: check.
In freshman year, I had my first encounter with Fireball, an experience that would turn out quite embarrassing and pretty unpleasant afterwards. On a cold winter’s night, the residents of Westfall’s sixth floor, yours truly included, were gathered in one of the sick corner suites (tower kids know what I’m taking about) to pregame and hang out. We were passing around a handle of Fireball, which we of course, as freshmen, considered to be the most delicious whiskey around. Well, over the course of an hour, I ended up having something like 10 shots before getting the brilliant idea to hit the D for some food…
…I don’t know if anyone has ever tried to paint the picnic tables outside Durrell before, but that night, my body gave it its own try with a palette of one of those under-cooked, late-night chicken sandwiches, half a granola bar, and gratuitous amounts of Fireball. Amazingly, nobody caught me in the act. But, in addition to a killer hangover, I woke up with a nasty cold because somebody who partook in the Fireball handle the night before had been sick. THE END
I’ve always been a sucker for freebies and free stuff in general, and the dining hall mints are no exception. They’re so enticing, begging to be liberated from their wrappers. So, me and my roommate decided to take handfuls of mints every time we left a dining hall and stashed them in our dorm room– at one point we even contemplated whether or not to try and use them to pay back our tuition. While having a box full of (probably stale at this point) mints in our dorm that we had no idea what to do with might be embarrassing enough, the most embarrassing thing that happened to me was while exiting the Durrell dining hall.
I had gone on a solo mint retrieval mission, and bit off a little more than I could chew. I grabbed a handful with each hand and zoomed out of the queue area as there was no one in line to serve as a distraction while I raided the mints. Unfortunately, my jacket pockets were zipped and I stubbornly kept trying to shove the mints in their respective pockets until I was a little too forceful and roughly 15 mints spilled down the stairs.
It was a Saturday night, and my friends and I were intoxicated and wandering around behind Rams Village. A few guys were on their balcony and were calling over to us to hang out, but there was a stream in between us. I was making fun of them for not trying to jump the river and they bet that I couldn’t make the leap myself, and if I tried they would give me beer. In my drunken stupor I took on the challenge; I took off my flip-flops, but not my phone from my pocket. I made the most pathetic attempt to jump the river, then slipped and fell in. I was soaked from head to toe, had a broken phone, and took jasmine rice from the strangers’ apartment to put my phone in. Many know me as river girl, but at least I got free beer.
On a benign Wednesday night during my freshman year, my friends and I decided to buy a handle, like we often did. After two of my usual half-liquor, half-mixer drinks, I wasn’t feeling it as much as normal. After striking out with a girl who I in no way had expected to strike out with, and after seeing nothing left to do with the night, I decided to drink.
My compatriots hadn’t finished their shares, so I took the liberty of drinking the second half of that handle. I woke up the next morning so sick that I never even considered it was a hangover. I really don’t even remember throwing up the alcohol, but eventually my stomach was empty. I could barely walk, couldn’t hold down food, and I was shaking and sweating uncontrollably. I ended up getting an ambulance, still not even considering the alcohol– this had never happened to me before.
The guy in the ambulance knew immediately, and after some saline and 45 minutes on a bed, there was a $1,200 bill. The night I had was nowhere near worth the co-pay. Worst of all, I got an ambulance for a hangover… A hangover!
One time I got so high that I fainted in Chipotle.
Also, one time at formal I cried because a frat boy told me my taste in music sucks; I was in charge of the playlist.
One time during sophomore year, I went to a basketball game at Moby against Wyoming. It was the Border War game, and I thought that everyone going would be all painted up and acting crazy, so I decided to do it too. I took my shirt off and painted myself up, and draped myself in a CSU flag and green booty shorts (in February).
I show up to a packed stadium, but not packed with people who are ready to get hyped up. Everyone there was smartly dressed in sweatshirts, and everyone was looking at me like an idiot. Keep in mind that I’m grossly skinny and pale, so I really don’t look good without a shirt on.
On top of this, I went alone and didn’t have a squad to back me up. Then, the camera kept panning to me since I was the craziest-dressed guy there in hope that I would hype the stadium up. I never looked worse on camera for an hour straight.
That was a cold walk home.
Bonus story: I was once making out with this girl who was out of my league when I farted really loud.
Self deprecation is an art.