All I remember about getting home and going to bed is that I had the forethought to charge my iPod and that when I set the alarm on my cell phone it reminded me that I had 4 hours and 9 minutes before it went off (swell!). I started this post when I got home apparently because my first instinct when fucked up is to blog it seems.
I wanted to wear my new backless Lifetime shirt but I got it mixed up with my other Lifetime Collective shirt that's the same colour and brought the t-shirt by mistake (I was in a rush). I bought a new WeSC tank to wear instead but ended up wearing a shirt that I had lent to The Pansy a couple weeks ago. She asked me on our way to her place if I was going to be doing coke with her and The Barstar's new boyfriend but I politely declined her offer.
It was supposed to be both a birthday celebration for The Pansy's 21st and a going away party for one of the other stores' managers, but he never showed. I was beyond tired, that's what a book launch/hectic 6-day work week will do to you, so I high-tailed it downstairs a couple of times and did a couple of bumps to keep myself in the game partway through the night (bathroom stall VIP club). We stayed out till close and hit up a 24 hour restaurant for some after-show munchies but it was packed so settled on sandwiches? at Tim Horton's.
The Pansy and The Rep hit it off, she updated me with texts and I encouraged her to hit that, because I'm classy like that/she needs to get laid. The texts stopped somewhere around a quarter to four, but at that point I was deliriously tired/contented knowing that at lest we'd have something fun to talk about on the bus ride the next day.
...and just like that I'm no longer able to make jokes about her extended dry spell.