Blackout Well that was interesting…. Intim…

Blackout

Well that was interesting….

Intimate Karaoke II started out really cool. It was a small group, good vibes, some new additions, and no drinking on my part. Unfortunately, things happened and a certain someone (glares at Shane) made it seem like a really fine idea to have a drink. After several glasses of vodka and some vile Chinese stuff, I became utterly smashed. I swear there were worse days during my dreadful Sandra period, but I totally can’t recall a good chunk of the evening (like 90 minutes). Now, I know I become pretty idiotic on the sauce, but apparently I was pretty obnoxious too. And I swear the blackout isn’t a convenient excuse for my rudeness to Cindy, Seanbaby, and Stella…it’s the sad, sad, sad truth. Apologetic emails are definitely in order.

On a fairly troublesome note, Shane got all Inspector Clouseau on me and started investigating my personal life. His initial conclusion was so unbelievably wrong that it ruled. To prevent him from jumping to more ridiculous conclusions I told him about ***** and me.

On a positive note, I only drunk dialed X 4. I’m hoping I didn’t say anything stupid–particularly to one drunk dial victim–but the chances of that are fairly low.

Oh yeah, I have no recollection of leaving karaoke and arriving home safely. I was silly drunk at karaoke then all of the sudden I woke up this morning. Thanks to Rannie, Xtina, and Matt for making sure I got out okay. Hopefully Matt was the one that undressed me.

Today’s recovery consisted of yamcha at Ton Kiang and shopping in J-Town. I got this super-cool bracelet that says “Heart Breaker” on it. It makes me smile and think of Foxy Lady. I also encountered the most incompetent crew of barristas ever. I swear, it was like the four stooges making the most dreadful lattes imaginable. I miss Tobie’s superb frothing skills.

Rannie dragged me to the gym around 6:00 and it seemed like a good idea. The headache was (seemingly) gone and I was more tired than anything else. The first two rounds of hitting the heavybag sucked. After every shot, my head throbbed in a most irritating fashion. After six minutes of this I decided we should go in the ring and work on our footwork.

So there’s a couple of lessons to learn here. 1) I should not drink vile Chinese stuff on an empty stomach ever again. 2) Someone should take my phone away from me after two drinks. 3) People should keep Shane away from me when he becomes Encyclopedia Brown. 4) I should not box with a hangover. 5) I should not drink for the rest of the month.

Unfortunately McNamara is in town this week and he’ll want to play dice. I wonder if I can play for Diet Cokes without my manhood being questioned.

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