Chapter Three:
Intoxicated Santana is Way Too Intoxicated to Be Awkward

You know what sucks?

School.

School sucks. It's the kind of "suck" that makes you wonder why you haven't dropped out yet. But my school experience doesn't suck for normal reasons - oh, no; my reasons are because school is too good all the time. But I digress, let's talk about what happened after I was punched at the party last week...

*I would like to warn you, my fellow viewers, that I truly don't really know what happened - for some moments of my memory have gotten fuzzy. (I would also like to warn you that, at some moments, the continuity of this story is like the continuity of my original story-line... wait, what?)

I do remember, though, that after I tried to cop-a-feel on Brittany, I soon found myself on the floor of a grand bathroom holding onto a stuffed duck-pillow.

Brittany had actually punched me in my face - not a slap or a fake wrestler's "smack-down hit." I was legitimately made her bitch. And as I was on that floor, holding a weird, fluffy pillow, I really didn't blame her. If a girl, who I thought had a penis moments prior to finding out she didn't, tried to feel me up, I'd probably Chris Brown her as-well. So, as she stormed off in the direction that I soon found out was the exit, I just cautiously followed her back to my liquor filled salvation.

The party was actually a good one, considering who was throwing it. And when I say it was a "good" party, I mean there was lots of booze. Seriously, like rows and rows of them. I ended up drinking so much that I became Oprah and just started giving shit away. (You get a shoe, and you get a shoe! EVERYBODY GETS A SHOE!) By the time I realized I should probably stop drinking, I had given out half of my outfit and a lock of my hair. However, in all of my drunken glory, I managed to do the impossible: I got Brittany just as wasted.

For the record, that wasn't originally my intentional. I started bringing her apologies in the form of well-mixed drinks; however, I realized that the more shit-faced she became the more she could stand my face. And by my twelfth "I'm sorry," Brittany managed to both give me a hug and a lot of her clothes, too. And this, my friends, is when my story really becomes something interesting.

By the time I had her polka-dot bra, four-inch heels, and leg warmers in my possession, the Berry Boondocks Bash was over. But more importantly, her ride for the night, Artie, was gone. So when she noticed that she was alone, she found Puck, who oddly didn't drink, and asked for a ride home. (That was one of the fuzzy parts. I don't know how Puck ended up taking her home, actually. Mike, her ex-boyfriend, was still there and was pretty sober. But hell, I am not complaining.) Want to know another thing I'm not complaining for? Do ya? Do ya?

Well, it turns out Brittany lives literally a block away from me. I wasn't actually the one who figured that out, though. It was Puck. Turns out, as a shitty friend, it was his job to kick me out at Brittany's stop because (and I quote) "You can walk yo mean self home 'cuz my gas is only paid in money and ass - and you aren't giving me either." It might seem a little extreme, him kicking me out – but I actually ended up punching him in the face again for making fun of the black-eye that was forming on mine. (I know, I know – I always go to my angry place.)

(Also, now looking back, I notice a lot of people have been getting punched in the face.)

(I'm glad I'm not the only one filled with rage.)

As soon as I got out of Puck's car, I was slightly sobered up by the mere fact that drunk-ass-hell/happy-to-see-me Brittany didn't know I lived a walk away and asked me if I wanted to come inside when I walked her to her door. And when I say inside, I mean her house. Where she takes showers… probably naked. So I kinda lost my shit when she grabbed my hand and pulled me into her living room.

The only bad part is that drunk-ass-hell/happy-to-see-me Brittany was too under the influence to tell me that her bat-shit-crazy/ask-a-lot-of-questions mother was up waiting for her to return home. She also failed to give the message that her mother is a nudist.

So fast forward forty minutes and thirty-three questions later, I'm still surprised that I was still in Brittany's house. The crazy part was that I was enjoying myself! Brittany's mom might be bat shit crazy and super talkative, but she was such a weird, awkward combination that she made me feel really good about my life. Like, if this situation was a photograph of two girls: Brittany's mom would be the really ugly one making the sorta ugly one look really good. (But before anyone gets offended by that comparison, I want you all to remember that at the end of the day – both girls are still ugly.)

And for the first time in my seventeen years of existence, I was not the one to make the room silent by my awkwardness. It was all Brittany's mom. I'm not even going to into how she made the room more awkward than her being both nude and long-winded; but, I can say it had to do with why she was named "Soft Finger Kitty" by Brittany's dad. So, with that being put out there – I'm not even going to break down how much I wanted to get out of that moment. And it would be selfish of you to force me to re-live it for the sake of your own laughs.

Moving on, fourteen minutes after Brittany's mom's (who's real name, by the way, is actually Latoya – I know, I know, no one see's that coming) revelation, to where I'm standing next to Brittany's open window as Brittany's on her bed, trying to find something to talk about. Mind you, I was still super fucking wasted. Brittany, on the other hand, was a lot better at holding her drinks and was only drunk for a few hours. I'm pretty sure I drank enough to get alcohol poisoning, so the task of trying to start a conversation with Brittany took a lot out of me. But here's goes the biggest plot twist you'll ever read – I actually had a two (count that shit, TWO) hour conversation with Brittany before things went bad. And not once was I strange or bizarre, I was actually quite charming.

The Awkward Moment When Santana is Cooler When She isn't Being Herself – But Charming Santana Cannot Stop Gravity

SANTANA: Do you know what I find myself thinking about often?

BRITTANY: No, tell me.

SANTANA: You.

BRITTANY: *giggles a slightly drunk giggle*

SANTANA: I'm serious. You just have a way of making any day better.

BRITTANY: Oh, really?

SANTANA: *nodding*

BRITTANY: *getting off of her bed* You know that we just met last month, right, Silly Goose?

*This is when I became the super sexy, cute, ambitious girl I knew was deep down inside of me. I'm only telling you guys this because shit's about to get serious.

SANTANA: *chuckles* Just because you never knew my name doesn't mean I didn't know yours.

BRITTANY: Okay, Miss Santana Lopez. When did you first learn my name?

SANTANA: *chuckles confidently* Well, Miss Pierce, if I tell you – I'd have to-

BRITTANY: *laughs* Kill me?

*This is my favorite part, guys.

SANTANA: No… I'd have to kiss you.

*hook and sinker!

BRITTANY:

SANTANA: So, if you really want to know *draws out the "oh"*, ask at your own risk.

BRITTANY: *stepping closer to Santana* Okay.

BRITTANY: *now slightly whispering* When.

BRITTANY: *takes step closer* Did.

BRITTANY: *takes step closer* You learn.

BRITTANY: *takes another step, now blocking Santana from the rest of the room* My name?

SANTANA: *still super drunk but calm and collected, surprisingly.* Well…

SANTANA: *whispering now as well* It was seventh grade, in Ms. Shirley's homeroom class.

BRITTANY: *nods her head while listening - looking into Santana's eyes*

SANTANA: You were the only one in leg warmers in the heat of August.

BRITTANY:

SANTANA: That's the day I learned your name…

BRITTANY:

SANTANA: It was such a beautiful name.

BRITTANY: *laughs quietly, tilting her head* Oh?

SANTANA: *nods while lifting her head an inch away from Brittany's* Just the way it rolls off my tongue makes me feel that much better.

BRITTANY: *looking at Santana's lips." Is that so?

SANTANA: *nods again while looking at Brittany's lips* Definitely… Who wouldn't want to say a name like yours -

BRITTANY: *about to kiss Santana*

SANTANA: *whispers* - Rumpelstiltskin.

*Annnddd this is where I fuck up.

So, you might be thinking that the Rumpelstiltskin joke didn't go over well (and I'd like to say fuck you because I'm a comedic genius) – but you're wrong. That joke made Brittany burst out laughing. But here goes the bullshit; her sudden laughter at that beautiful joke caused her to bump into me. Now you might be thinking: Santana how is that a bad thing? Well, let me remind you that I was in front of Brittany's open window. And with Brittany being as wonderfully close as she was, that bump caused my drunk ass to tumble out that fucking window and drop two (count that shit, TWO) stories. But it's okay; my arm broke my fall… It also broke in general. So yes, that situation did escalated rather quickly.

So that was a week ago. And my broken arm and I have been through a lot in those seven days. For one thing, my mother has bitched me out non-stop. I think it had to do with the fact that I came home at five-o-clock in the morning with a broken arm and barely any clothes on – but that is completely irrelevant. The good part about breaking my arm is that it's technically Brittany's fault. Hence why she's been coming over my house every day after school. Brittany said she had a surprise for me today. You know, like something to make up for accidentally pushing me out the window. She said she worked really hard on making this surprise perfect because I didn't enjoy her last one. But seriously, how can I enjoy a dance recital at Brittany's house if her mother wants to dance, too? It's gross to see her naked mother do a split and… I just… I can't even. I'd seriously rather go to jail than see that again.

Oh, and speaking of school – let me tell you why it sucks:

My school is actually decent, that's why! I got my cast on the night/morning I broke my arm, so why is my school giving me a week off to recuperate?. They knowingly gave me a week off to do absolutely nothing. My school is so sickening perfect I don't know what to do with myself. But it's almost four, which means Brittany will be at my house any moment now, so I guess I can stop complaining for a moment.