Back in the Day

Remember when you passed out that time and left the door open?

Totally! God, I was soooooooo drunk that night. Didn't James come home with me? And you got pissed because that's the one person you never wanted to see in our bathroom on a Saturday morning?

That was like, your mating call! I'm sooooo drunk!

I know! Well. Yours, too.

Yeah. Huh.

What happened, man?

I dunno, man.

Lately,I care about who's in my bed and why he's there. And drinking?
Forget it.

I know! I'm so wigged out from the idea that someone followed me home. I can't drink, no way. And dig it, there's a whole new screening system of people I would sleep with so that means I'm all alone and drunk?
No thanks, Shaggy.
Like, I have to be extra vigilant, even if that means no mas alcoholica.

You have a screening system? Finally.

Sht up!

Seriously, slut! How many did one pr both of us come home shit-faced and loaded down with bags of groceries to walk into an unlocked house, only to put the bag that has the eggs and the milk in the 'frigerator and then turn around and head back up to the bar? To finsh getting drunk? Without our boyfriends, which we thought was so cute and novel and now either of us would give the other's arm to have a boyfriend to ignore. Youth/wasted - you know what I mean? Holy double entendre!

Yeah. If I ever felt creeped out in Springfield, IL, it was a small and stupid way to feel now that I know the sound of a Ghetto Bird headed to my house and the feel of a baseball bat in my hands that I'm prepared to use on'a mother-fucka.

And there are so many ways that would never happen now... Going back to the bar or going to Schnucks all buzzed because you know you're not going to be able to get there once you're full-on drunk. Please. If I go home now, I'm watching Letterman while I'm in bed.
And we always got up and worked out and stuff, too.

If I get hammered, the only part of working out that occurs to me is skipping the work-out.
Dehydration makes me get a Charlie Horse.

Dude, right?

Yeah. Me, too. And this dry patch on my neck. It's weird.

Hey, are you sleeping with anyone?

That was funny.
I hate every guy I've met in the last four months except for the one I thought I loved for a couple of days.
I think I hate all men.
I think I might be the female version of a misogynist.

Well, I always knew I respected you for something, I could just never put my finger on it. Yo. I've got a Lean Cuisine about to be done with the minute and a half of cooling uncovered. Can I call you tomorrow?


Love you.


Finally, if you are an exceedingly lucky person, and I don't mean some kind of bullshitty lucky person, I mean you are the guy or gal who ALWAYS picks the right number, ALWAYS gets the upgrade, and ALWAYS finds out it's on sale - email me. I need you send me a lucky charm because even my least-observant friend noticed that my luck is really sort of not so much luck as it is a gigantic pile of horse shit.

arizonasarah at 1:54 p.m.

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