Drinking, Note-Taking, and Other Atrocities

I am, once again, a guest writer! Follow the link for my take on “Use It Even If The Seal Is Broken” Day.



And welcome, people, to Monday! I am writing this, of course, on Sunday, a day consumed with fighting off the hangover I insisted on cultivating the night before. So far, a combination of work, writing, cooking and massive amounts of water and Fresca seem to have kept my urge to lie in the dark in the fetal position at bay.

How did I get to this deplorable state?

Saturday night, Amy and I went to the Spring Street Bar for dinner and drinks and drinks and drinks. We were joined by others who seemed to think we were on to something.

I awoke in the morning with a headache, minus $40, and a notebook with pages of near-indecipherable notes.

Amy, RD, Kurt, Jean, John, and me.
Drinks and general goofiness.
The Pogues are on the jukebox! I looooove the Pogues!
RD is doing silly finger tricks to prove his sobriety. RD does not get out enough! Must speak to him about this.
The East Coast Contingency (John) knows the rules to Bizz-Buzz (drinking game). Have invited him to Misfit Thanksgiving the day after.

The notes gradually became illegible.

I am the only married one here – pawling in 2. Frippen on the ritley!
Shannon, Willie, Jeff and Kathy are here! Yay! Krinnen galaxy particles spinnen sideways.
Early Fano are! Turn around and there is Erin!

And then comes my favorite note of the night: “This will all make sense in the morning, I am sure of it.”

I’m still waiting for it to make sense and will let you know what it all means just as soon as I figure it out.

In the meantime, Happy Monday to you. Frippen on the ritley!