10.22.01 :: 9:42 am

"Like a rock star" doesn't begin to cover it.

Let's say that I totally forgot Sunday morning that two closet doors fell on my head the night before. And in my drunken stupor, at 4:30 AM, the only thing I could get my brain to wrap around was that I better ice my head before I lapse into a coma from a a concussion.

Frozen peas to the head, and Sharon Taint passes out on the couch, clothed. With the TV on. Because you should never sleep after you've received a severe blow to the head. Right.

Thus endeth my alcoholic evening out with the ladies. Ruby's birthday rocked. I remember dancing at Don Hill's, with some wierdly spastic gyrating mod boy named Hal, who apparently asked me why I was engaged because it was such a shame because I was "mad spicy" or something to that effect. Step away, Hal. I may have been drunk but I know who totally owns my ass/heart.

Oof. So much booze, so much hangover. I spent all Sunday trying to get over it. I woke up at three. And then had to waitress at five. Not pleasant, but I made $52 in tips in five hours so that was a lovely surprise. One more day of working and I'll be able to afford something nice for My Boy's birthday.

Police investigation at 34th street today, and I had to divert my ass to 28th in these kicky new heels, but ouch indeed, and now, this coffee and me are gonna make better friends.


earlier / next