Well my weekend was about as exciting as watching paint dry.
The only highlight to speak of was getting drunk at my friend Angela’s candy store’s Grand Opening on Saturday, proving once again that I will turn any occasion — however inappropriate — into a means by which to transform myself into a crapulous, wildly gesturing maniac (who would like to GIVE YOU A HUG! HUGZ 4 EWERYBODY!). I think, but I’m not 100% certain, that at some point during the proceedings — perhaps after I’d taken it upon myself to walk over to a restaurant several doors down for the sole purpose of buying a full bottle of wine off of them (and lo, it was a bottle of Maryland red (represent!) that set me back DOUBLE DIGITS! Someone stop me before I put mid-grade gas in my car at its next fill-up! I’M OUT OF CONTROL!1!!) — I may have told a complete stranger, apropos of nothing (that I can remember), that they could "like, totally crash at my house, borrow my car, whatever," and offered to pick up someone’s shift bartending at a local lesbian club later that evening. Yeah, I have no idea.
Beyond that spot of blistering, high-voltage thrills, I watched a lot of television. Which, you know, I normally do quite a bit of anyway. BUT NOT IN HAIKU.
Joel McHale on TV
Chat stew and dog’s tail clipped
My underwear wet—
My So-Called Life
Remembering ’94
Grunge fashion sucked—
That Juliet hag
Ratted out sweet preggo Sun
I’d punch in the face
I could go on and on. But I’ll spare you that particular torment. Because I love.
Any plans to celebrate Saint Patty’s today? Or did you — like me — get your fill of public drunkenness and/or green-tinted beer this weekend?
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*I am, in fact, quite Irish (hence the unspeakable, unpronounceable horror that is my gaelic-flavored maiden name, Gaughran). This fact probably serves as a neat explanatory footnote to the aforementioned public drunkenness. I also love potatoes and leprechauns, if that helps with authentication any.
