Saturday night was fucked-up.
Saturday night I was fucked-up.
It started out okay. I went out to The BBC. I had a yummy BBC Dark Star Porter (228) and spent some time talking with this one chick that I went out with about five years ago. So that was nice.
Then the text messages started coming in. From HatGirl.
NavelGirl wasn't quite as thrilled as I was that I was texting HatGirl. Not that I really cared. There was, after all, a reason why we stopped going out. Besides, it was HatGirl!
After my beer I said that I was going to The Pub at Fourth Street Live in downtown. NavelGirl must not have been too upset about the HatGirl thing because she followed me there, and we had dinner together. After a while she left though, so I was free to text HatGirl to my heart's content.
I had three Newcastles (2566) while I just sat at the bar and vegged out. I was trying to decide whether I wanted to go home or to see if HatGirl was still at Rich O's when this other chick came in.
And that's when things got fucked-up.
I learned some things, I guess. Confirmed some others. Most of what I learned I could have lived without learning, and most of what I confirmed was that I'm an asshole.
I had another Newcastle (2586) while BlondeGirl raked her fingernails across my soul. It was like driving by the scene of a terrible auto accident. I just had to slow down and look at the carnage. Problem was, I was the carnage.
So after a while I just couldn't take it anymore. I told BlondeGirl that I was going to go home and kill myself but instead I went over to The Hard Rock and talked with CoolHairGirl and some dude that works at The Pub. I had a couple pints of Blue Moon (302) and listened to PubDude tell a never-ending series of jokes. Most of them seemed to be funny, but I can't remember any of them as I was getting pretty fucked-up.
I took a cab home because I'm a good citizen and stuff. I'm still an asshole though.