“Wanna get shit-faced?”
This week was crazy. It was a three-day week at work that felt stretched to what’s equivalent of two weeks. Okay, almost. So after we called it quits for the day, Lee, my boss, asks “Do you guys want to get shit-faced.” Five of us were down. Kate and Paul joined after a couple of hours.
We went to Brick, in Nob Hill. 3 Fernets and 2 Chimays and a few sips of Vignette did the trick. We headed to some places in the Castro. Basically, we were all drunk but Lee and I were shit-faced. We took his question a little too literally.
Then the blurry span of events like me yakking nothing but alcohol, wheat thins and peanuts and. Then we were stranded in the Castro because Lee had to leave. We all parted ways, took the bus, BART, and got home at 1.
When I was yakking on some street in Castro, some guy was like, “Get it together, it’s only 11.” Ha. Eat it. I haven’t eaten lunch all week. That’s why Kate’s giving me a hard time for drinking a shitload and having nothing in my stomach. Like I said—hectic ass week.