#49 or "Alcohol is Oil for Unauthorized Movement"

Today I decided to pout like a fussy child because I couldn't go out drinking before noon.
Ignore that in the previous entry I illuminated the fact that alcohol is waging war on my body.
Destructive or not, alcohol is my friiiiieeeend. I realized sobriety is simply not a goal for me.
Let me repeat: SOBRIETY IS NOT A GOAL.

Beyond that though, I'm pretty psyched for payday tomorrow.
You know, so I can blow it all on petty Christmas gifts that people won't appreciate and be left with nothing to pay my student loans with after.
Because that's eternally smart.

My niece took her first step yesterday. It was pretty precious. And sad too.
Sad for me, I mean.
I wish someone would be that excited when I manage to coordinate my limbs.
Which isn't very often.
I think I'd have to buy Graceland for people to be that excited over me.
Or have a bacon-flavored vagina. Either or.



Ways to fuck-up:
#49 - Sleep with all your male friends, every last one of them. Even the gay ones. Make sure you say something super creepy like, "What should we name the baby?" when you're through.