Got drunk last night. Rip-roaring.
Good thing is, I walked home!
Bad thing is, I feel like hell. No, worse than that. The coffee I’m drinking is shitty. Pepperminty and chocolaty. Spozed to be kinda “holidayish”. I’d give my left tit for some good, strong, thick, black regular stuff. Okay, not really. I don’t have much in the boobie department. Certainly not enough to give up for coffee anyway. This stuff will suffice.
Met an orthodontist at the bar. Cutie. Too bad I don’t remember much of the conversation. Only thing I remember clearly is that he noticed the veneers on my two front teeth after we talked a little and I told him that I have a deep-rooted fear of dentists. Nice. Something tells me I gave him my phone number. But I seriously can’t remember.
I don’t even remember paying the bill!! I can’t find a receipt.
This is what happens when I get a little tequila in my system. Oy. Bad. Bad. Bad.
I stopped at this little bar on my way home from shopping (for work) last night. Just wanted to get one drink. Called an old work buddy as I drank and then made friends with two bartenders. And then the manager of the place. Found out we have some mutual acquaintences! Conversations were flowing nicely so I ordered another drink and then another. These are not your ordinary drinks, mind you. These are like little tequila bombs that are all tricked up and timed just right to make your whole body explode the next morning.
Why the hell did I do this to myself? Especially since I have to get a million things done at work today?
Gotta pay to play, I guess. Unfortunately, with alcohol, you pay long after the playing’s done. And you don’t even remember how much fun you had playing.
Wah. Enough whining (wine-ing?). I have a long, ugly day ahead of me.
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