October 14, 2005

I almost grew a set.

At the bar last night, I almost grew a set and talked to a guy. Red shirts were very in last night at the Plaza, but my guy had a little goatee thing, and I'm pretty sure he was making eyes with me all night. I was like, 87% ready to go up and start talking to him. I was even feeling fairly butch since I played a game of beer pong earlier in the night. I could totally do this.

However, I hate my friends for two reasons.

1. I was chewing gum last night, and one drunk friend returned from the restrooms she snuck up behind me, reached around, and grabbed my pectorals (or rather, where my pectorals should be). I was so surprised I bit my tongue, hard, and I spoke with a lisp for the rest of the night. (I'm better now, honethst.)

2. Even with the lisp, I was still thinking about heading over there. $2 Long Island Iced Teas can do wonders to a person. However, the Long Islands did wonders to another one of my friends, who tapped my shoulders, whispered in my ear "I think it's time to go home" then turned around and vomitted on the table behind us.

I then decided that maybe it was time to take that bitch home.

You know, whoever came up with the phrase "bros before hos" needs a good solid punch in the face.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.