After tipping a few out for my fired hommie, S.R., last night, I went directly to bed. Do not pass "Go."
This morning I woke without hangover, but a tension headache or some shit. Two cups of coffee, checked the email, started reading the next to last New Yorker with Lilly curled up by my side on the too small couch, and promptly fell asleep for the entire afternoon.
Ah, yes, another wasted day off.
So, tonight is Molli C.'s B-day party somewhere down on Lincoln Ave @ Diversey. I am no where near motivated to go. Still the slight throbbing in back of head, no food in tummy, and that old Zombie-numb, fuzzy wet blanket wrapped around my brain feeling. Can't seem to wake up.
But the show must go on!
A quick shower and change of clothes, and I'm to pick up M. and B.H-T. and tip brew in Honor of Molli C.'s Day of Birth. After the party, I am told via the E-vite, the crowd is to migrate to some bar called The Goodbar.
We'll have to see if I am one of the pack.
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