Well, going from
the stroke of midnight, I was
on my way to a very
drunken (but not
debauched)
night. First, just a single
beer, and later, about 2/3 of a
bottle of
wine (
Bonny Doon Vinyards,
Pacific Rim Riesling - a great
sweet citrusy chick wine) and then I started
tugging on a bottle of
Canadian Club. I remember
acting very stupid,
knowing I was
acting stupid, and
not really caring. Then I fell
asleep and woke up with
a massive hangover - one that seemed to
last for almost
two days.
Later that day, I learned the hard way that the old folk wisdom 'The Hair of The Dog', i.e. drink some more, you'll feel better, does not work for me.
Four Advil later, I'm feeling as good as can be expected. I go visit one G. Harris, and end up accompanying her, her boyfriend A., her roommate, and a miscellaneous friend named M. to a nice, out-of-the-way Tex-Mex restaurant called Los Dos Amigos. Before we order our food, two men (one armed with a guitar, one with various handheld percussion instruments) walk over to our table. They were going to serenade us, simply because we were the rowdiest table in the place. Apparently, they decided we were the rowdiest because the aforementioned G. Harris had peacock-colored hair. And so they crooned a (well-done, methought) rendition of Jimmy Buffett's classic singalong, 'Margaritaville', in two-part harmony. G. was given a plastic easter egg (same color as her hair) to shake in time with the music, which she accomplished with aplomb. We tried very, very hard not to break down laughing throughout the entire experience. The best part was the extended tambourine solo - indescribable. That made my day.
The day ended with groceries and movie-watching. Today, it was a good day.
That night, I slept with a big fluffy orange kitty named Tugger on my head. That just made things even better, except when Tugger visited the litter box, and then returned to my head. He draped a smelly paw extravagantly across my nose. But it was still a good day.