We made the pilgrimage to Deep Ellum and parked our asses on the patio at Dada until Hardin Sweaty time. A $64 tab later (mine alone) Elise and I stumbled out on the arms of T. and Charles and made our way to the car. By the time we got back to Elise's house the dark whirlies had wormed their way behind my closed eyelids and I wound up one-shoed, bent over, with my forehead clacking against the toilet seat with every gutteral heave. I woke up at 6:20 this morning face down on the tile floor of the bathroom with a hella sore forehead.
No one ever said this partying business was so glamorous.
You can never say I'm not honest on this blog. There has to be some value in being upfront about one's fugliness.
No more drinking for me until Saturday. I'm hosting.
Regret of the night: not getting Dustin or Justin's (can't remember his name) phone number. Cute boy, new to Dallas. Good target.
Listening: The Fray...song #6....whatever it is.