Looking at my journals, I read like an alcoholic. Fortunately everyone else's journals indicate the same thing about them. Went out to the Village Idiot last night. Tried to drink beers. Of course my 'friends' gave me shots. Not being the unappreciate type I drank them. Don't remember leaving or going to the subway. Do remember waking up at the end of the line, getting off the train and puking (it was pink oddly and disgustingly enough). Left the station and tried to get a cab home. Oddly enough there were no cabs at Brighton Beach at sunrise. Woke up about three. Tried to eat waffles and eggs. Threw up again after one of each. It's the hot new diet from LA that I'm apparently on. Way to go dipshit. I guess there's a reason I haven't been to the Village Idiot since my last birthday. The drinks are TOO cheap. And then I feel obligated to take advantage of that.
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johnnydelicious:
According to the few facts I have been able to piece together about this evening, I had more shots than I recall (well, duh) after my (apparently equally drunk) best friend fell over and was on the group, I figured it was a good idea to tackle him. Somewhere in the night he thinks he broke his pinky. I have a large bruise right under my ass. Somebody was knocking over trash cans or something. My friends tried to piss on the third rail. I was too drunk to look up at naked breasts. A friend of mine apparently danced on the bar multiple times. All in all, I guess it was a good night.
crimsondeath:
All that matters is that it was a good night... As long as the journey taken led to an evening of debauchery and indulgence, then it's all good.... 