dear lord

[lauralh]

So we went to Aristocrat's last night. I stared fondly at the cute gay psytrance boys and had a couple of drinks. This one girl who was having her first Jaeger shot, Steve helped her with hit. I tried to encourage him to hit on her by leaving him alone upstairs for a while. I actually like psytrance, but in my old age have gotten really into drum'n'bass. Which is odd as a few years ago I was all about the trance/goa shit and despised drum'n'bass because you couldn't "dance" to it. I finally figured out how, though. Plus, y'know, the cute guys who are into drum'n'bass are straight and therefore worth flirting with. (Of course stupid me, I fixated on the goth/industrial gay guys who had a Kelly Osbourne-type fag hag with 'em, anyway. Maybe I need to start dressing in drag.)

But it was just painfully hot upstairs, and kind of smelly downstairs. We headed to the Contour at 1am where I proceeded to flirt with one of the DJs. And drink. I was only going to have one drink, but the dude gave me a free double-fuzzy-navel, and then a free Chernobyl (vodka+red bull with a shot of Jaeger dropped in). Steve also had one of those. And then before last call, we each had another one. Plus I helped Ang finish her drink, which was a shot of Stoli Raspberi and Chambord dropped in Mike's Hard Lemonade. The girliest "bomb" I'd ever tasted, so I told them they should call it the "girlfriend bomb".

So that's what, the equivalent of seven or eight drinks? Only one was I charged for. Well, two, but Steve paid for one. I feel so fucked up still. I made myself sick so I could sit up straight. I mean, when you're outside and the "room" is spinning, that's pretty bad.

Comments

[cpf.livejournal.com]

Not me. Not anymore, that is. Back when I was a forklift driver I could get away with that, but having to just sit at a desk while tipsy is murder. I tried the hair of the dog trick the other morning, and maybe I overdid it, but that day was horrid. I guess you can't teach old hair new dogs.