This is what my life has become: Sitting in a darkened room in front of the computer at 10:30 in the morning, listening to the Fastbacks and waiting for this incredible hangover to pass. If you asked me why I'm wearing aviator sunglasses, I couldn't tell you.
I swear I only meant to have a beer. I had a few beers with my family, plus my signature sickly-sweet Triple G Battleship Sinker (gin, ginger ale and a splash of grenadine--tell your friends), and then I went to College's pub, where, if memory serves, I had a Pabst and a gin and tonic AND THEN Jack, who had gotten pretty much twelve-drinks legendary before I even arrived at the pub...well, he kind of disappeared. I found him going punch-for-punch with a much smaller dude about an hour later. Anyway, in the meantime I started talking to this football player sitting at the bar (this story is not going in the usual direction, by the way. Keep your shirt on.) Apparently we knew each other from an earlier incident involving Pop Tart theft, and we talked about how much he loves his girlfriend and how much I despise football players.He apologized for the excreble manners of his teammates and then he bought me the first of, oh, four drinks. I got another Triple G, then he ordered a round of tequila shots, then I got a vodka tonic, then he ordered round of Jager shots, and that's where things get hazy.
I am really, really looking forward to drinking four or five drinks and being blind drunk. I have a pretty burly tolerance for a girl, and it's bankrupting me.
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