I'm Sorrry

I love you.

Long Slow Goodbye

A good friend of mine and her fiancé are moving to South Carolina so that she could work as a teacher, and I went to her farewell party, last night. It was a nice little party with lobster shaped red velvet cake lobsters and chocolate cake shaped as the Twin Towers, complete with toy airplanes implanted into them...really classy. But still fun.

I almost ended up not going because I really knew one person out of the entire group. But in the end, I had a good time. I only remember having three conversations with her the entire night, one when I came in, another when she took my picture, and the last when I left and wished her and her fiance good luck.

There may have been another conversation where she said something about humping my back. I wasn't in the right frame of mind to remember...

And the alcohol...I could handle four beers and still have it all together. But the five or six shots of Jim Beam (three of them group shots), did me in. I was sitting down in a chair near the music system the entire night, because if I got up I would stumble and knock something over. It wouldn't have been an issue if I were at the friend's house, but the party was held at her friend's house, who I met for the first time. I have to be in someone's house three or four times before I knock over shit and break something and not feel entirely guilty about it.

I almost ended up not going because I really knew one person out of the entire group

People were worried about me not having a good time. I was, but after I spilled a drink on myself from my lack of coordination, I had to limit my movements until I sobered up a bit.

I mean, I can understand how people who are drunk piss themselves. It's hard to concentrate holding it in. It was some effort for me to piss without missing the bowl. I had to prop myself on the flush box to do it.

I almost fell coming out of the bathroom.

But everyone ended up tipsy and dancing to Al Green and Sam Cooke mainly. Including myself, and I am a horrible dancer. One chick I "danced" with kept telling me not to get nervous. I wasn't nervous, really. It's just that splitting my already lowered concentration on standing up, keeping up with the music, keeping up with her movements, and not popping a boner is really difficult.


I ended up leaving the place at about 4 am. Good times.

Now, something different from cats...