I went out tonight.
I DID! I went out with my friends! We had drinks! We had dinner! I have friends! It's a miracle!
We went to the W1ldcat, and I just ... well, the nickname for that bar is the Shitty Kitty. It's not a hole in the wall so much as it's a ... creepy ... black-light-infused ... blinky-light-(the name escapes me right at this moment in time...wait, no, strobe light, that's it)-obsessed ... fog-machine-using ... place of endangerment to one's general mental well-being.
I don't like it there.
I don't like the red lights in the smoking patio that make me feel like I'm in a womb. I don't like the shitty (kitty) music that thumps on irregular intervals. I don't like that the pool table is set up right next to a wall so that you can't set up a good enough shot on that wall (not that I'm good enough at pool for it to make a difference anyway. It took us 45 minutes to clear the fucking table). But it was a coworker's last night before he moved to L.A., and if I didn't go I'd be hearing about how, "OMG, you TOTALLY missed out at the W1ldcat," for weeks to come. So I went.
But I went there with some L3vi's peeps and I had a good time. I danced, even, after I had stolen one of the girls away to go find a decent cheese plate and had enough drinks in me. But as soon as I got on the dance floor, my thoughts processed as followed:
"This is stupid. I look stupid. Everybody looks stupid. Dancing is stupid. This isn't even dancing. It's bopping. It's swaying. It's not dancing. Oh god, I'm notdancing along with everybody else. I'll look less stupid if I keep doing the stupid moves the other stupid people are doing rather than standing here doing nothing among the stupid people. I hate this. I want to be in bed."
But alas, now I am home and I have drank too much to go to bed because ... spins. Oh, I hate the spins. I can't even blink without my body being like, "I'M FALLING DOWN A WELL LIKE ALICE! YOU KNOW, ALICE IN WONDERLAND. YOU SAW THE MOVIE SOBER ONCE, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. YOU'RE DIZZY, OKAY?"
That's what goes through my brain when I try to fall asleep when I've had too much to drink. That, and, "If I stay up and write an entry, that'll kill time and maybe I'll be sober enough then to fall asleep."