Oh. I hurt. Who else is at work today? Damn it. This sucks. Its a shitty day here in the District – foggy, rainy and quiet. All you people are still away. And I’m here at work, pretending to work. Though, this is for the best, because if I had one more consecutive day off, I would have been in detox by Wednesday for sure. I did a lot of drinking. I mean, a LOT of drinking. And self-medicating. Combine that with not a lot of eating and well, I hurt. HURT!
The weekend is a blur of events, quotes, hangovers and sleep, but heres what I got. If anyone who I saw can contribute more or connect any of the dots, it would be much appreciated.
The Upstairs Neighbor visited. In a drunken picture taking moment, he fell on Freckled K and broke her coccyx. We think. She was whining all weekend. FK, I did some research on broken coccyxs here. It doesnt say anything about if a hot hipster boy from San Fran falls on you at The Black Cat though.
The Upstairs Neighbor came out again on Saturday night but he brought a bodyguard this time. I dont think he wanted to be alone with FreckledK and I again. Damn.
FreckledK made me go to Georgetown on Christmas Eve to go shopping. Oh, the humanity. Okay, it wasnt that bad. I did announce to everyone on the first floor in Banana Republic, This was fun but I’m going upstairs to commence shopping for myself. Merry Christmas to the rest of you though.
After trying on several pairs of pants and discovering that after all these years Banana Republic still can’t make a pair of pants with pockets that lay flat, I went back downstairs to find FK. I saw my bestest friend in line next to her. I started screaming and pointing and he did too, then we all went to eat. The waitress at Clydes asked the kitchen to make me an item off the dinner menu and they said yes and it almost made me cry because I didn’t ask her to do that. I just mentioned that I loved it and wished it was on the lunch menu. Its the little things you know. Then we gave the waitress a ridiculous tip of like $30 on an $80 bill and she almost cried. Tears all around and we werent even at a funeral. Or my familys house.
Christmas Eve I went to dinner with Sixes and Sevens, her mom, and the King of the Dog Park. At some point during dinner, Sixes and Sevens mom mentioned her collection of shopping bags. Anything with a handle she said. I was sufficiently drunk by this point in time. Then I went home and collected every shopping bag I could find in my house and brought them over to her. She literally shrieked with joy. Who knew? I was also supposed to bring my new Taki the Greek speaking Teddy Bear that my brother gave me for Christmas (Dude, you know I’m not 10 anymore, right?) but it was just too embarrassing. “Alpha beta gamma delta epsilon zeta eta theta…OPA!…Mia Orea Petaloutha…Yeia Sou!” Jesus fucking Christ. What. The. Fuck. Did you not see the rocking pink tricycle I got you people? How about your Tourist Trap DVD or that Fekkai Gift Set? I get a Greek Teddy Bear? Fuck. What am I getting next year? A gang bang from Osama Bin Ladin and friends?
I went home and was messing around online and noticed something very interesting in my stats. Verrrrry interesting. I wonder why someone from Lewis Law Firm spent 5 hours checking the google cache for mentions of someone who has proven to be quite the psychotic around here. Then, interestingly enough, later that evening, someone in some redneck state down south did the same thing for a few hours. Christmas Eve people. Christmas Eve. Do you not have anything better to do than to scour a google cache that barely exists anymore for mentions of your nutball self? Or to have someone at a law firm do it? Jesus. What a waste of space you are.
I was about to pack it in for the night. But then FK and KassyK called me from a bar. Leave it to those two to find a bar that is open on Christmas Eve. More drinking. Could I possibly drink any more? Lets see. Yep. I could.
I spent yesterday recovering and checking out rehab programs. Just in case.