Jessica: dude what the fuck i literally have 35 fucking matchbooks from that last bar we were at
Zander: wow, really? i only have like 17
Zander: but i also have an access card to "Morgan's", whatever the hell that is
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Maybe not quite as mysterious as the time in college when I woke up with an 8-ball in my pocket, but still...where do I pick these things up?
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The life and times of a functional alcoholic. Or at least what I can remember.
About Me
WHAT TO READ WHEN I'M TOO LAZY TO BLOG
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2005
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May
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- Public Service Announcement
- Please Tell Me This Customer Was Drunk
- CStixx & and Upper East Side
- Happy Hour, Round 4 (Emla's Bday)
- Happy Hour, Round 3
- Imagining My Intervention...
- Happy Hour, Round 2
- Happy Hour, Round 1
- Keeping It Professional
- Souvenirs
- Just What I Needed: More People To Hate Me
- Like I Even Remember...
- An Apology and a Warning
- Crouching Tiger, Boozing Dragon
- Who You Callin' Stupid?
- Why We Drink, Pt. II
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May
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4 comments:
at least u didnt wake up w/ a fat whore in ur bed. that always sux.
8 ball.. of coke? Or, like, a Magic 8 Ball? Either way, you're a winner.
anonymous -- Thanks for putting it all in perspective, much appreciated, I assure you.
cristin -- Actually it was an 8-ball from an actual pool table. Probably from a frat house where they would have kicked my ass if they had seen me slipping that puppy into my pocket. Which would have sucked, cause it's not like I had my own pool table to give it a home anyway.
Shoot, I was hoping for the fortune telling kind.
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