too weird not to write about

So yesterday around 7pm i crack. I can’t sit at home and drink in front of the computers anymore. It’s time to leave the apartment and drink somewhere else. I grab a piece of paper and a pen and walk up to the deli. I sit and drink pabst and write manically into my little piece of paper. Finally i decide to go to the celtic crossing for i dunno what reason. I’ve been drinking all day, none of my decisions mean anything at this point.

As i’m walking up Porkchop and some strange girl, who’s name escapes me, pull up on the side street next to the bar. He demands that he has a drink with me. We go in and he has several shots of whiskey and we catch up. He’s apparently doing well, the girl he’s with has lots of cuts across her breasts. My kind of people. You know you’re with some cool people when even you’re self inflicted cuts and cigerette burns doesn’t mess with anyone’s head. Except probably the bartender.

Porkchop demands i come with them to eat at Pacific Rim. I’m hungry and he’s already bought me one new castle so this is a great idea. I don’t eat seafood so i must have been pretty drunk for this to be a good idea. We get there and i notice they have Abita. mmmm. A cold wave abita rushes into my bloodstream and i look at the menu.

I order lobster. You know you’ve been drinking all day when you start ordering stuff you’ve never had before. At least with me. Porkchop makes lots of small talk with our nervous looking waitress who he claims he knows. I eat the entire lobster appetizer which surprises myself. I think lobster is overrated. Steak is much better. Anyway, Porkchop and the girl who’s name still escapes me, drink lots of sake. They want me to drive home.

I know what you’re thinking.

Because i think it too.

I slide into the front seat and we cruise down Poplar blaring the new Tool. We somehow get back to Midtown. It’s seriously been like 3 months since i’ve driven any kind of vehicle. Oh sure, yeah i can drive, why not. I might have saved everyone’s life involved but very well could have ended them all.

It’s 6:45am and i’m about to eat some of the pork roast Peter dropped in the crock pot. Breakfast of champions.

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