If you’ve ever had too much to drink, you realize the complications that affect you the morning after. My
favorite starts with: I did what? Yes, I’m talking short-term memory loss. The next morning, your brain
is still particularly fried from Tequila, Gin, Jack Daniels, et all. Fast forward a few days and your mind
begins to fill in those blank spots. (Sometimes I wish they didn’t, but it usually results out of
conversation with fellow party-goers: Do you remember saying/doing/whatever-ing?)
Wednesday night: (a few days later) I met AC Slater/Mario Lopez at Tramp. I also met his “friend” Laura, who I coincendentally programmed into my cell. Apparantly she was cooler than he. AC was, expectededly, an asshole. (Where’s Jessi, Lisa, and Kelly when you need them to whoop his machismo ass into shape?) I went to Panini’s… twice. I opened up someone’s car door to attempt to find a ride home, and then was kicked out by his girlfriend. I drunk-dialed too many people between the hours of 1 and 4am (one of which, a married guy-friend, Ace Taxi, someone named Gio that’s no longer programmed in my phone, and the-even-stranger “Eric.”) No repurcussions to said drunk-dialings have taken effect as of yet (ie: no one calling me back: Do you remember calling me last night?). I’m hoping the phone was just unlocked in my purse and dialed at random. I also waited/ate/fell asleep at Dianna’s. And to top all the TMI off, I got “kisses” goodnite. (I’m still waiting for the sober definition).
Sounds like a good weekend, huh? Too long of one: streching from night out Wednesday to last night. Too much driving/working/drinking. Party for me is this Saturday! Cannot wait to see all my friends under one bar. Did you get your invite?
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