January 27, 2013
Yesterday was one of those nights where watching hockey with some friends at my place turned into a drink fest. We were playing Kings so I was already drunk, and unfortunately got the last king card, which meant I had to chug whatever the previous 3 people who got the king poured into the King's cup. It was a full glass of beer, vodka, coke and rum. It was nasty. I had to use my Asian piano focus on my mouth to not puke.
Eventually I looked like a crack whore with stains on my shirt and smear makeup that no living creature would fine me attractive. After everyone left at 2am, drunk, hideous, and mentally weak, I texted one of my fancies:
Me: "I'm drunk."
Me: "WHY NOT STOP JUDGING WHATS WEONG WITH YOU"
Guy: "It didn't work, what is it?"
Guy: "You keep sending me picture/video messages"
Me: "I send you nothing of spry stop makeing sens"
Guy: "Make more sense drunky"
Me: "I heart you"
No Reply. I've been told that I scare men and I think that is an understatement. So I did what a woman would do to redeem herself: drunk shopped on ASOS, bought a bunch of shit I didn't need, then past out with my laptop on my bed.
It felt equally satisfying. Rawr.