Sunglasses At Night.

Last night I was perfectly content on being evasive and staying in my house watching What Not To Wear re-runs, but all of my really lame (see: awesome) friends tracked me down and made me go out. Aimee phoned me around eight and I was already in my pyjamas. It's much easier to say no to a friend you've had forever who already knows you're lame than it is to someone new who doesn't know yet. Kristy phoned me around 9:30 and asked me (nay, TOLD ME) to go out. I gave in.

It was a pretty good night. We went out to O'Hanlon's. It was dance party night. We danced up a storm. There was talk of starting a conga line, which I'm sad to say never happened. We met this kid Jason a couple of months ago who we talked to all night and he had bought us drinks, he showed up last night. We were going to hang out with him after we closed down the bar, but it never happened which was kind of sad. I'm glad in a way that it didn't happen because I literally went home, sat down in front of my computer and woke up on the floor.

Yesterday afternoon was spent at the tattoo parlor. Kayla was getting her tattoo. I knew the tattoo artist and I hadn't seen him in forever so I tagged along. His baby, Nixon, is possibly the cutest baby ever! We (not the baby and I) drank beer out of red plastic cups in the middle of the afternoon. I made a phone call on the sidewalk of Broad Street holding my red plastic cup filled with beer. I felt infinitely hardcore. I actually drank a lot of beer yesterday. Two at the tattoo place and then one at the bar. I realize three beer doesn't seem like much but I usually hate beer.

Friday night we drank absinthe and I drunk texted Jon... I don't really remember the call, but apparently I was very entertaining and possibly came onto him. I think he lies... about the coming onto him part anyway.

How much do I sound like a huge lush right now? In my defense I hardly ever drink. This just happened to be a very drunk weekend. I don't like how my head feels this morning... foggy.