Things that happened last night: I DID leave work, and at a decent hour strand (where you no longer have to check your bag, amazing) spice with hannah and alex w one lychee mojito and that’s when the bad ideas started.  after all leaving and saying our goodbyes, hannah decided we should get one more drink.  one more drink wound up being five? (five? how many shots were there? i stopped counting.) i got asked out by a calvin klein model named luigi i drunk texted JUST ABOUT EVERYONE I KNOW - remember, i gave up txting for lent? is it easter yet? yeah. i attempted to carry on an intellectual (cannot even remember how much i drank at this point) conversation in italian about the merits of various translations of proust (“mi piace il viola” is what i remember saying on repeat) i cooked the entire contents of my fridge (remember, we already ate dinner) including but not limited to: a duck breast, mashed potatoes, and brussel sprouts. i apparently visited with alex when i got home, but i have no memory of this.  i do remember walking puppy.  so there’s that. and the house was still standing and the oven off when i woke up… so i think it’s okay.  now if i could only replace the alcohol level of my blood with water, we’d be in good shape. moral of this story: don’t discuss proust in foreign languages with calvin klein models, don’t keep duck in your fridge, and whatever you do, avoid any and all shots that taste like jam.  it’s only a disaster.  drunk texting… well.  i need something to repent. (“Black raspberry mojito” via quinn.anya on flickr)

Things that happened last night:

I DID leave work, and at a decent hour

strand (where you no longer have to check your bag, amazing)

spice with hannah and alex w one lychee mojito

and that’s when the bad ideas started.  after all leaving and saying our goodbyes, hannah decided we should get one more drink.  one more drink wound up being five? (five? how many shots were there? i stopped counting.)

i got asked out by a calvin klein model named luigi

i drunk texted JUST ABOUT EVERYONE I KNOW - remember, i gave up txting for lent? is it easter yet? yeah.

i attempted to carry on an intellectual (cannot even remember how much i drank at this point) conversation in italian about the merits of various translations of proust (“mi piace il viola” is what i remember saying on repeat)

i cooked the entire contents of my fridge (remember, we already ate dinner) including but not limited to: a duck breast, mashed potatoes, and brussel sprouts.

i apparently visited with alex when i got home, but i have no memory of this.  i do remember walking puppy.  so there’s that.

and the house was still standing and the oven off when i woke up… so i think it’s okay.  now if i could only replace the alcohol level of my blood with water, we’d be in good shape.

moral of this story: don’t discuss proust in foreign languages with calvin klein models, don’t keep duck in your fridge, and whatever you do, avoid any and all shots that taste like jam.  it’s only a disaster.  drunk texting… well.  i need something to repent.

(“Black raspberry mojito” via quinn.anya on flickr)