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18 November 2006 @ 09:40 pm
You should've seen the look on Emily's face when I told her that I was already finished with my 12th beer. Just dumbstruck ... "That's your twelfth?

I got a little liquored up last night. After getting around three hours of sleep the night before, then waking up at 6:20am and working all day, my original plan had been to fall asleep as soon as I walked in the door. Then, about ten minutes before I got off work, I got a call from Emily. Apparently, we were getting our ceiling fixed in the bathroom and our super had to do it TONIGHT. I was so brutally tired, it was either buy two six-packs of Yuengling or have a nervous fucking breakdown.

So, I got home around 7pm to the sight of everything clothing related having been bagged up for me by Emily. The exterminator had to show up AGAIN, because the bedbugs haven't been eradicated AGAIN. I didn't even bother eating dinner, I went STRAIGHT for the beer. And, I'd finished the whole 12 of them EASILY before midnight. It was at that point that I was sufficiently drunk enough to appreciate a big ol' glass of red wine. Yeah, you could say I got good and fucked up.

It was a nice little evening, though. Of course, I started the drinking, but before too long Emily and Jenny joined me ... I mean, if you can even call what they do "drinking." You'll never see a pair of more pisspoor winos in your life! They nurse their little glasses of wine for what seems like fifty-nine hours. But anyway, we just sorta sat around and bullshitted.

Then, I dunno, around 1 or 2am, everyone started passing out, so I went back to my room and watched the downloaded episode of this week's O.C. I can't say that I'm all that certain of what went on, though, because I was still VERY loaded; so I'll probably have to re-watch.

I woke up today around 1 and thought I'd make good on the previous night's claim: "You know, tomorrow I think I'm gonna go running in Central Park." Boy, if that wasn't the miracle of all miracles. I gotta say, though, I was pretty proud of the effort. I was jogging non-stop for 40 minutes there, weaving all around the little trails and walkways, until I was very near ready to collapse. I mean, when I stopped, my legs were all jittery and I thought I'd just keel over.

When I left the park, I realized that I was up on 95th street; I entered the park on 59th. So, I had to walk all the way down there again, catch a subway train, and hunker down in a bar for the second half of the Real Championship Game. By the way, that Henne guy, the quarterback for Michigan: He Sucks! You wanna talk pisspoor, this guy's stream's so weak he couldn't even get it out! Overthrowing guys left and right, making poor decisions to throw short on plays they need long yardage and throwing deep when they need a fucking yard! Michigan had so many fucking chances to win that fucking game, and he pretty much bonered the whole fucking thing!

So, what's the moral of this week's story? "This is not good. Worlds are colliding! Steve is getting upset!" Whatever you do, don't mix your different worlds. Keep them separate, that's what they're there for.
Current Mood: He will kill Independent Steve
Current Music: R.E.M. - Finest Worksong