God I feel like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag. You know you’re hungover when it’s noon and you’ve drank two glasses of water and two cups of coffe and still haven’t pissed yet. I came into work a half-hour late cause I simply couldn’t drag myself out of bed. I nearly called in sick. But I knew if I could tuff it out for a couple of hours I’d be okay. What a struggle.

I went to the local haunt, which I found out, is going to be closed all of January for remodeling. What am I going to do? I know most of the bartenders there and have had some great times. When I got there the bartender and I started picking drinks with the dirtiest names out of the bartenders bible, he would make them, and we both would drink them. A server suggested we have a strawberry kamikaze. The bartender fixed us up a shaved beaver. I suggested we have a run, skip and get naked, which contained the lethal combination of rum, vodka, brandy, triple sec, soda water, and beer. Best of all everything was free. I’m not sure why. But I didn’t complain. I drank all night on six dollars. I ran into gobblegirl, or she ran into me, literally. She was being pursued all night by some tooter that she would periodically come down and complain to me about and another bigger dude that she ended up regretfully leaving with. This kinda bothered me, but only cause I was drunk and emotional.

Later I went to another local bar cause I wanted to test it out as a January replacement. I sat at the corner of the bar next to a cute girl in sweats and a blond that looked like a beat-up cameron diaz. The blond said we looked sad and that we should each go around in a circle and tell about something good that happened today. We all stumbled through our dumb stories and then started talking about the 8 kids who have recently died from the flu in Colorado cause it’s sometimes easier to talk about the bad stuff than it is to talk about the good stuff. Me and sweatpants hit it off pretty good and talked about getting drinks again some time. Clobbered Diaz gave sweatpants her phone number and sweatpants threw it in a trash basket on the way home. We proceeded to make fun of her, but in a nice way.