Andrew was here this weekend, and it is all his fault that I want to take a big ol' nap this morning. On Saturday night, he called my bluff about going home to bed by 11PM and didn't even arrive at the Brass Monkey (you funky monkey) until 11:30PM. By that point, there was nothing to prevent him from keeping me out on the town until 2:30AM, which he promptly did. And I am all the sorrier for it. I feel like a big ol' pile of horse manure right now (but I probably smell better).
Oh sure, I got to watch Eric serenade his Heineken with his favorite Journey tunes, and scare Jeff's girlfriend Liz by my inappropriateness (don't worry Jeff, we'll tell you all about it when you're older), but I'm feeling a little too old to be springing out of bed at 8AM when I only first entered it at arse-early AM.
But my little Gracie-pie simply can't put off her piddle run, and so it's up on the weekends at an inconveniently early time, whether I party with Andrew or not. (You see folks, Grace is my best attempt yet for an excuse for why I am in bed by 10PM.)
But it wasn't all for naught. My boys did buy me more drinks than I should have consumed, and the lovely Lesley even celebrated my FS Exam glory by treating me to a round of shots. For the life of me, I can't remember what round number that was, but it was near the end of the evening/morning alcoholism so I can't be held accountable for counting.
One of the highlights of the evening was making fun of some guy for macking on a girl by lifting up his shirt and showing her his abs. About thirty seconds after this move, she was on the arm of another guy - quite hysterical. Actually, the more I think about it, the more sad it becomes. The bar scene certainly provides one with more than enough ammo to mock the scenesters, and I can't exactly say that I like the commentary it provides on humankind.
Anyway, the real point of this post is to say that I actually have a life on occassion, and it was pretty damn glorious. Even if we didn't get Andrew to the airport on time for his plane.

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