I Broke My Nose Saving A Slice Of Pizza Last Night

Happy Sunday. I’m writing this to you from bed where my swollen face has a heartbeat & I’m eating cheesy grits with a milkshake because my teeth hurt too much to chew. The scaries are full blown, though it all started out well enough.

For the #BudLightBusters competition on Friday night I went to NYC’s Washington Huskies bar & watched them take out Utah State.

They were the nicest fans & I had every plan in the world of going back there today for the game against UNC at 2:40pm, but I’m not sure I’m gonna swing that now due to an unfortunate pizza-related incident.

Last night I fell asleep watching the Villanova game & missed a party I was supposed to go to. That should have been my sign to call it a night, but I decided to pretend like I’m not old & head out later anyways. There was a good amount of wine drinking & then terrible dancing & then before going home I *had* to get a slice of pizza.

Watching my slice of pepperoni come out of the oven & onto the plate with steam whisping off it was an instant drunk gal lady-boner & when the cashier handed it over to me it felt like Christmas morning. Leaving the shop, I ran out into the street holding it with both hands underneath and proceeded to step on my shoelace right in front of a taxi cab. It all happened so fast there was no time to bend my knees to stop the fall & I went down face first, HARD. The only thing I did manage was to stretch out my arms in an attempt to save the pizza, thus using my face as the landing pad.

The fall looked so bad the cab driver got out of his car with a terrified look on his face to see if I was ok; A pretty big deal in New York where I feel like sometimes they’d just as soon run you over with a smile. My nose was bleeding both internally & externally and my hair and hands were caked with blood, and I was fluctuating between hysterical laughter & hiding my face in shame. I limped away like a battered troll while holding the equally battered pizza slice. The cherry on top, my ripped open coat revealed a shirt that said, “Fuck You, You Fuckin’ Fuck” in big letters. To everyone leaving the bars & waiting for their own slices on the crowded block, I’m sure it looked something like this:

So Huskies, if you’re reading this – whether I make it out to watch the game or not – momma needs a win. I want to show off this hot new schnoz in Vegas.