Saturday, December 06, 2008
Mistakes Were Made
Let me just come right out and admit that I had a bit too much to drink last night. Long story short, I went to a party where the vodka was high quality and plentiful. I put a lot of that vodka inside of me. This led to an evening of exceptional and uncomfortable frankness. For instance, I shared my controversial views of which co-workers smelled like Roseanne Arnold's digestive tract or dressed like Austin Powers. I also regaled the assembled crows at length with the story of the time I invented the beer and coke and the natural and necessary consequences of its consumption. After the party, our plan was to go out, but we somehow accidentally ended up at my house instead, where we made toast and drank large glasses of water. We ended up lying on the floor in my kitchen, where my friend Ashley proceeded to leave colorful voicemail messages for essentially every single person in her phone book. I also threw my gym bag into the fireplace and drew a rather unflattering sketch of Nicole Kidman getting botox injections on a piece of junk mail. I went to sleep in my clothes with Telemundo inexplicably playing in the background.
I must remind you at this point that I am a person of exceptional class and dignity.
Let me just come right out and admit that I had a bit too much to drink last night. Long story short, I went to a party where the vodka was high quality and plentiful. I put a lot of that vodka inside of me. This led to an evening of exceptional and uncomfortable frankness. For instance, I shared my controversial views of which co-workers smelled like Roseanne Arnold's digestive tract or dressed like Austin Powers. I also regaled the assembled crows at length with the story of the time I invented the beer and coke and the natural and necessary consequences of its consumption. After the party, our plan was to go out, but we somehow accidentally ended up at my house instead, where we made toast and drank large glasses of water. We ended up lying on the floor in my kitchen, where my friend Ashley proceeded to leave colorful voicemail messages for essentially every single person in her phone book. I also threw my gym bag into the fireplace and drew a rather unflattering sketch of Nicole Kidman getting botox injections on a piece of junk mail. I went to sleep in my clothes with Telemundo inexplicably playing in the background.
I must remind you at this point that I am a person of exceptional class and dignity.
