drunk soup

It's 3 a.m. and I'm eating soup. Be warned...!

I just got home from many a hour at The School. I am also about eight cocktails to the wind and additionally, about 14 hours into an afternoon with My Friend.

Ever have an afternoon where you're like, "Why Not...?"

Yeah. Welcome to my world.

Anyhow. I am also drunk and, as mentioned, at the point where you're like, "Why shouldn't I make out with my best friend?"

Ah, fuck You. You always give me bad advice. Yeah, I'm talking to You, saturated liver. Ever since I've known You, You've steered me wrong. Fuck You. We have had some good times, though. All right, all is forgiven.

Other than bad drunken advice concerning long-known-acquaintances, I'm feeling pretty good. Tomorrow signals the beginning of my Everyone Else's Weekend, which means My Real Drunkening Realized, and this makes me happy: Step Up. It also means the start of a guilt-inducing weekend of "Why Aren't You Working?!!!"

Eh.

My crush has worn off. This is what happens what you don't see The Object of Your Affection in two weeks. I am a fickle, fickle beast.

I love you all!

kisses,
seriously