The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me. --Ayn Rand


Oh, em, gee

I amaze myself almost every time I go out.

Last night I went out to Tigerheat with my gay drinking buddy Gabby and his brother and co. We met a million women who made me feel proud to not be a teenager anymore. I waited a half an hour in line, even after the guard let us cut through most of it. Gabby, who breezed through the 21 and over line, waited with a hideous look on his face. I thought he was going to kill me with his Kenneth Cole murse, but once the vodka kicked in, it was my usual antics on the dance floor. Everything I knew of the rumba washed away with my sobriety.

Drove home, showered, slept. I don't remember getting ready this morning, only looking at the alarm clock and cursing because it was 45 minutes after when I should have been up, 15 past when I should have been out the door, and a full 4 hours before I should have been conscious. Everything else is a blur. I miraculously appeared at work 15 minutes later (jesus christ) looking something like a bottle of belvedere disguised in jeans and a shirt. Thank god for casual Fridays.


Before we left, I stole Gabby's computer to respond to my first blog-related email, notably vanguard from the blogroll.
Met a random Indian girl about to go to UCLA. I even remember her name.
Gabby attempted to save me from an old cuddle buddy, and failed miserably.
A woman called me "amazing" on the dance floor.

I hope the random Indian woman myspaces me. :: swoon ::


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