It’s 9 pm, and the most active thing I’ve done all day was to make myself a quesadilla. Otherwise, I’ve been in bed all day, fucking around on the internet and switching channels on the TV.

Friends, the hangover, she hits me hard today.

GB called me when he got off work (at 5pm–you see where this is going, right?) to say he was having a beer with Duck Wild. He called again around 7 to say they were coming to a bar in our neighborhood, and did I want to meet up with them? I did…and I met three of GB’s work friends (who were really very nice–and *none* of whom were at the Underage Housecooling party, thankfully), and Jason showed up, and suddenly it was 4:30 am and I was saying goodbye to the people who lived nearby, and handing out blankets to the ones who didn’t.

Overall, some fun was had. I really liked the girlfriend of one of GB’s coworkers, and we hit it off really well, until around 3 am when she a) informed me that she was 23 years old; b) expressed shock at my age; and c) asked me to please not play the Rolling Stones, since she hates them. That was sad, because she seemed to have promise in the Drinking Friend department. Alas, though, I can’t have after hours parties without the Stones. And I’m not sure I need to be feeling quite that old. Better to hang out with Bad Idea, I think, who makes me think, well, at least I’m not *that* old.

OK. I’ve gotten distracted 17 times while writing this. I need more TV.

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