More news from the Christmas party....

I hate it when you get so drunk that people have to, for weeks, tell you the embarassing things you did at a party cause you just don't frickin' remember! Apparently, in between pestering the guy who looked like my dead college professor Omar, and the other guy who I told, apparently many many many times that he looked like "a cute Prince Charles" I did many other embarassing things. Including an incident which left one friend commenting that I have very strong thigh muscles.

Why, oh muse of alcohol, do you make me so silly? Why can't I be disturbingly poetic and write stunning verse that people, for generations, will say "Oh, yes. That was a writer." why?? Instead, I hug guys who look like former dead teachers and tell them they need more "bling bling." Must be the Irish genes.