taswell

Last night, I went to a party, a cocktail party, where the attendees were primarily grocery store employees, and I had a really fantastic time. Actually, I guess it was just a good time, but good enough. Drank probably near half a full-size jug of Carlo Rossi chablis, which I was drinking by hooking it over my elbow and drinking straight from the jug, pirate-style. Talked to people I didn't know about stuff I didn't know much about, which is the most fun when you're drunk. Smoked too many pall malls. Tracked horrible, Rohnert Park black clay dirt all over the carpet. Didn't get the girl, but I think that's OK.

This morning I woke up with a fantabulous hangover. Much to my surprise, it went away fast and early, but not before I got to watch my friend Austin, whom I haven't spent good time with in a good time, wear a little cardboard party hat on his half-erect cock. I haven't laughed so hard in a while. It hurt.

We spent the remaineder of the morning collecting empties that we could recycle for weed money. I had money, I could've just *bought* some weed, but it was more fun to go on the adventure. Went back to Tim's, played some hackeysack out in the sun, watched the first bit of Big Trouble in Little China with the sound off.

Despite not getting laid, and having to listen to detailed accounts of how my friends got laid, it was a good weekend for my soul.