I'm not hung over.

Which was a distinct risk, considering how many people tried to buy me drinks last night.

I was standing in the local bar across the parking lot from where I work , and my Kitchen Manager sauntered (well, weaved, really, he was trashed by then) up to me with a shot of Rumpleminz and a beer, and just as he did so, The Bartender cut the house music (some decent punk rock band I didn't recognize that I actually meant to ask about--damn) and yelled "Hey everybody. This one's for Patrick. He's going to Europe!".

And everybody cheered.

Of course, they were all drunk.

Well, to be accurate, at that point we were all drunk. But I finished the shot and the beer and got a class of water and joked with my managers until I felt stable enough to drive and then I drove a coworker to a friend's house before coming home.

Also in the course of the evening I was offered a sexual act which I won't describe in detail, courtesy of a professional in the field (I think one of my bosses still thinks I'm gay), and pretty much any drug to which I might want access, but turned down both offers on the grounds that I might have very few rules but one is that I never mix sex and money, and another is that I don't play with hard chemicals.

But those are stories for another night.

And now I have some clean up and packing to do.

Thursday, March 10, 2005


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