I honestly can't remember much from yesterday's happy hour, other than the bartender entering Susan's name on her tab in the computer as "Ten Inch Dildo" for some reason (and her addressing him as "Four Inch" for the rest of the evening, god knows what was in those drinks after all that). But hey, how much can I really be expected to recall when I guzzled down 8 martinis (it was 2-for-1!!) in a couple of hours.
Either way, Domini and I had met up early (we're talking like, 4.30, because apparently neither of us have real jobs) to get started, so I was still home and in bed at a reasonable time.
I mention this because there was a woman on the R train this morning who is SO DAMN LUCKY that I was not tired, hungover and miserable when I encountered her at 8.3oam. It all started innocently enough -- I took a seat next to a stranger on the subway. I realize her headphones are way too loud, because I can hear "We Belong Together" by Mariah Carey, word for word, note for note. Which wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't listened to it on repeat for the entire ride. Honestly, woman, who needs to listen to that song EIGHT consecutive times. I used to kind of like that song, and now I'd rather eat a paper bag filled with broken glass and assorted insects before hearing it just one more time.
And if I'm even slightly hungover and this happens again, you're getting an elbow to the face, bitch.
End of random and irrelevant rant. Sorry.
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6 comments:
I was taking the bus to PA and this woman not only put on her make up for the entire 2 hour ride (and I'm talking about swiping and reswiping her face powder -- for 2 HOURS) but she also listened to ONE Bruce Springsteen song over and over and over on her Discman. It was surreal.
It must be Happy Hour Week 'round the world. I made my potential new boss proud by slamming 8 drinks (expensive wine with a few beers thrown in for good measure), none of which were purchased by me, all of which were purchased by one of 4 guys, all of whom emailed me the next day "excited we met at the networking event" and wondering "when can we get dinner and drinks". Well, after waking up on my couch at 3 in the morning, with one contact in and fast food wrappers still on the floor, I'm thinking I'm gonna pass on the dinner and drinks with strange men. That is, until tonight's happy hour.
Vicki, in case you haven't noticed this isn't your blog. If your going to write an entire page in your comment on someone else's blog about yourself then why don't you just have your own blog!Pretty good idea huh? : )
Why don't you tell that to my old boss, you ass. And I hate anonymous commenters more than I hate recovering alcoholics. I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast. Ew, wait, I don't eat pieces of shit for breakfast.
Yeah I have to agree, posting as Anonymous is a pretty dickless move -- which should still be considered an insult, even if you're a chick.
Leave the girl alone, punk.
Aw, thanks Z. Can I buy you a Scotch?
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