Sooo... things did not go as expected. My day at work was typical. Then the plan was to go out to a bar after class with the girls from my cohort. But class was canceled, so that plan fell through. And at the last minute, people were busy, or far away, or I just didn't want to inconvenience people by asking them to come hang out with me, since I'd just had a party over the weekend. So I went to a community meeting down the street that was interesting and informative, and then worked up my nerve to go to Simone's all by myself for a drink.
Well, the bartenders were really nice. When they found out it was my birthday, they gave me this huge delicious shot that tasted like chocolate cake. Then I started talking to the girl next to me, who had actually also been at the meeting, and she was really cool as well. Meanwhile, I kept drinking Double Bubbles (it's like champagne, pear Grey Goose, and orange juice with Pop Rocks on the rim of the glass), and within a very short period of time I was toasted.
So I stumbled home, talking to my birthmom on my phone, but I don't really remember the conversation. All I remember is that I thought I was going to pee in my pants, but I still stopped to buy cigarettes. Then I came home and called my mom and rambled about growing raspberries. (The girl I met at Simone's was telling me about a community garden that I want to get involved with.) I barely remember that conversation either. Then I started texting people. Looking back this morning, I did not even remember some of the texts. Nina told me she couldn't play tennis with me on Friday, and I was so confused. By the time I started texting people, it was getting late, so Pete was the only one who was awake and willing to converse. Poor Pete. I was watching the Cubs and smoking out my window and getting pretty belligerent, since they were playing the Sox. And Pete is a Sox fan. Also, I get really chatty when I drink, so I texted him A LOT. Then, to make everything worse, I mentioned that I was lonely (which, like, 90% of the time I'm not), and he asked why don't I look for a guy to date seriously, and I started going on about my self-esteem issues. How freaking embarrassing. I texted him this morning to ask him to forget most of what was said, except for my childhood love of Mr. T, and he said I could consider it forgotten. But still. I'm guessing I won't hear from him for a while.
And that was my 27th birthday.
Well, the bartenders were really nice. When they found out it was my birthday, they gave me this huge delicious shot that tasted like chocolate cake. Then I started talking to the girl next to me, who had actually also been at the meeting, and she was really cool as well. Meanwhile, I kept drinking Double Bubbles (it's like champagne, pear Grey Goose, and orange juice with Pop Rocks on the rim of the glass), and within a very short period of time I was toasted.
So I stumbled home, talking to my birthmom on my phone, but I don't really remember the conversation. All I remember is that I thought I was going to pee in my pants, but I still stopped to buy cigarettes. Then I came home and called my mom and rambled about growing raspberries. (The girl I met at Simone's was telling me about a community garden that I want to get involved with.) I barely remember that conversation either. Then I started texting people. Looking back this morning, I did not even remember some of the texts. Nina told me she couldn't play tennis with me on Friday, and I was so confused. By the time I started texting people, it was getting late, so Pete was the only one who was awake and willing to converse. Poor Pete. I was watching the Cubs and smoking out my window and getting pretty belligerent, since they were playing the Sox. And Pete is a Sox fan. Also, I get really chatty when I drink, so I texted him A LOT. Then, to make everything worse, I mentioned that I was lonely (which, like, 90% of the time I'm not), and he asked why don't I look for a guy to date seriously, and I started going on about my self-esteem issues. How freaking embarrassing. I texted him this morning to ask him to forget most of what was said, except for my childhood love of Mr. T, and he said I could consider it forgotten. But still. I'm guessing I won't hear from him for a while.
And that was my 27th birthday.
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