i have been drunkenly trying to remember the word for ‘drunk’ in 19th century british literature for like an hour now. which indicates that i started drinking at like 7. that’s not really promising for this story. but i think it’s sossed. it could be sauced. or sloshed. but i think sossed. yes, i think it. drunkenly think it. i’m weaving in my chair. this is what i get for reading trashy romance novels set in 19th century london while drunk.
and now enjoy a number of pictures of how i spend my days with ellie and tyler.
are you drinking alone my dear?
sheepish. maybe.
I just got back from a bar in downtown portland, and I was drinking black and tan’s, really good beer. While I didnt get drunk, sloshed, sauced, hammered, pickled, plastered, smashed, or tanked.
It didnt give me any liquid courge. As I was leaving with John(brother) and his friend scott, these 2 cute chicks walked in and I didnt have the nerve to stay and strike up a conversasion with them. Oh well maybe next time.
james! don’t be a chicken! you have to bring someone of the opposite sex to christmas. i’m bringing jason. if anyone asks, he’s TOTALLY NOT GAY.
jason, we need to go shopping for straight people clothing and if anyone mentions having kids you need to chocke back your vitriol and be in favor of them.
i wish i was drinking in portland with you and john.
I will try to do better next time, I just joined a gym, so I might meet someone that way, and am slowly building up my tolerance of portland to actually go to downtown portland to bars and clubs a little more.