O immune system, where art thou?
I was feeling fine this morning. Perfect actually, considering the sea of cheap beer & whiskey sours I drowned in last night deeper than the Mississippi itself. Starting at one of the neighborhood's more endearing establishments (followed by the "New Sweaty Betty's" with a mostly-platonic pal and ending with an ironic moustache at one of the neighborhood's most god-awful cheap late night eateries, I thought a hangover would be inevitable. That was until a late-night car/person accident jolted me right back to sobriety before I even crawled into bed. A coulda' been near death experience always wakes you up too, right?
Between a select few of us in the area, one (or more) of us always seems to be sick. As common as the common cold could be, I don't think that's what I'm feelin' now. I'm slightly feverish and plenty delirious and in no shape whatsoever to charm my new friends I was supposed to go dancing with tonight. As Laura-Louise can attest to, antihistamines & wine never seem to mix... well. The magnum of riesling chilling in my freezer will just have to wait for next week. Or, you know, tomorrow.
Even George Clooney, the silver fox himself, could not get me out tonight. Don't get me wrong, I may sound like a (wo)man of constant sorrow these days, but I'm really, really okay! I really just think I could use (another) night in. Instead of standing in line at the self-described hot bed for culture, I'm crafting things for my coffee table. Another overpriced, and over-enjoyed, brunch is coming to me around noon tomorrow and I gotta be ready for it. I can't afford another bottle of Coldfx, but can apparently afford the grilled fruit breakfast at Musa once a week. Again, my priorities are obviously in order. And again, that's okay by me.
1 comment:
Painted Lady is good, but it's not new Sweaty Betty's. New Sweaty's hasn't opened yet, is called The Red Light, and is just a couple doors west of Commie's. That little intersection is chockablock with new waterin' holes.
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