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No More Tequila
Oh. Oh dear. My friend Sarah and I have decided to embrace our singlehood. We're the last of a dying breed around here and we're tired of pouting about it. We've begun a mission to build an army of single friends and the plan is to have one crazy summer full of booze and debauchery with maybe a bit of gold digging whoredom thrown in for good measure. It's week number two of this mission and I'm not so sure it's going to work out very well. Turns out that I'm older than I was five years ago (I'm a little slow sometimes, but I usually catch on eventually) and the whole drunken debauchery thing takes its toll. Tequila shots and competitive music trivia last night was a blast. Waking up with my eyes glued shut, my hair sticking straight away from my head as though trying to escape the pounding going on in there...not as fun. Week #2 has shown a growth in the army as I scored an email address (from a girl - which I feel I should point out lest you think I've suddenly developed mad skillz with the boys. I assure you - that has not happened.) and corralled at least two others into having barbeques at my house this summer - complete with tiki torches and little cocktail umbrellas). The gold digging whoredom has been unceremoniously cast aside for now as we've discovered that no amount of bling can make up for a complete lack of personality and slightly stalkerish tendencies. I'm in pretty rough shape today. I woke up at 8 a.m. this morning to discover evidence that there was a little "episode" in the bathroom before I crawled into bed and passed out last night. I also apparently broke a glass (one of my favorite stolen bar glasses actually) and couldn't be bothered to sweep up the glass. I also apparently had a craving for cheese burritos (I assume this was before the incident in the bathroom, though I can't be sure. Truthfully - I'm not entirely sure that the cheese burritos were actually consumed - the open pack of burrito shells and approximately 4 bags of cheese were sitting out on the counter this morning though). The tv was on, I was wearing a tshirt that was not my pajamas but was indeed different than the shirt I'd worn out and the contents of my purse was scattered about the floor. I took one look at the situation and crawled back into bed for three more hours. It's at this point that I think it might be wiser to baby step with this "Girls Gone Wild" summer. In less than a month I'm going to have a roommate to consider (although this morning's damage control conversation revealed that my future roommate wasn't faring much better and also that I wasn't an asshole last night which - I gotta say - I was a little concerned about). All this is to say: No more tequila. That is all.
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