You know when you're taking your dog for a walk and he's already pooped twice that day so you don't think he's going to again so you don't bring a poo bag and then, right in the middle of your walk, when you're surrounded by people, he decides to unleash his inner monsters all in one huge, steaming load and people are glaring at you while you inch away, shameful and embarrassed? That's giant, abadoned pile of dog excrement is what I feel like right now. Folks, I used to be quite the drinker. I could split a bottle of raspberry Smirnoff with a friend and we'd empty that thing in 20 minutes and be looking for more. I don't do that anymore; one drink gets me tipsy and I'm drunk halfway through the third. Last night, I had a beer with dinner and then met up with Jessica, of Santa Barbara fame. I hadn't seen her in two years so we had some serious celebrating to do (she was usually the one hooking up the Smirnoff with me). Four Cosmos, three bars, one bong hit, and a ride home from two random gay guys (we were in the Castro) who became our best friends for the night and I was loaded. So much, in fact, that I had to unload before I spun off into the wonderland that is Five Hours of Drunken Sleep. So much for that delightful meal I had shared with my mother just hours prior. It was oodles of fun (at the time) and we made some new friends. The only really great thing about the night is the decision not to let it happen again anytime soon. It's 1:21pm, I've been up since 7am, and I'm still hungover. Ugghhh. At least I didn't make a complete fool of myself this time (see: just about every entry from 2002).
one year ago today: "in extra other news, i have a sneaking suspicion my mum had a wild night in vegas and that i am denis leary's love child."
two years ago today: nothin.
three years ago today: nothin.