after a night of horrid times and broken dreams, i found myself throwing up at 3 a.m. on the side of the street and quickly wondered what had done it.
Well, that was an easy answer: it was the potato I microwaved for dinner and not the few whiskey sours, lagers or the mudslide that a bartender made for me--i didn't order it. but now that i know they make mudslides, i will go back to that bar. not la caverna, another bar.
and now, for your viewing pleasure, pictures from last night:
here i am talking about my love of japanese pop punk. i also turned into jim varney, of "Ernest" fame.
here i am buying a $7 whiskey sour with six dollars. again, i turned into jim varney, of "Ernest" fame.
here i am wearing glow-in-the-dark glasses and dancing in the dark while my old roommate takes a picture.
here i am not jim varney, of "Ernest" fame.
and when i woke up today, there were dozens of delicate gnomes with bullhorns running around inside my head. and they were so excited because they got a shipment of jackhammers today. and they played and played and woke me up and forced me to dread life.
and i think i now have a husband. or wife.
i need to get that checked out.
Labels: clearly wasn't drinking