Maybe the title of this post is a bit over the edge, but I'm really trying to stay true to writing a post to my blog, at least daily. I'm not sure what type of value I'll be adding for my readers, but writing in this thing allows me to vent my anger, which as any of you who know me know, I have a lot of. (Try and diagram that sentence, bitch.)
This weekend was pretty low-key for me. I spent the entire week prior to the weekend out everynight at a work function as my boss was in town. Monday - margaritas; Tuesday - happy hour with my old job; Wednesday - out with a vendor; Thursday - out with the boss and the marketing team; Friday - out for Audrey's birthday and Jess' friends party. So Saturday, I got some pizza at Lombardi's. Today I watched football, did laundry, fell asleep at weird times during the day, and now writing in my blog. I also trekked uptown to Blondie's for some wings to watch with football. Too far of a trek. Next time, I'll have to find somewhere to deliver wings.
One of the best parts of this week came Thursday morning. I assumed I'd be sober enough to get in the shower and get to work. I was right. But when I got home Thursday night, I realized that there was a strange phone number scrawled on a post-it note on my desk. I assumed it came from my suit pocket from Wednesday night. I've yet to get up the nerve and call because I really don't remember who it could be. Many of my exploits recently have featured a high level of beer and on Wednesday, a few Jager shots. So I'm not too sure of the caliber of phone number I'd be able to pick up in that state (not that I do this sort of thing ever anyway).
Perhaps if you post comments saying whether or not I should call this number, I'll tally the votes and decide based on that.
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1 comment:
You know you're calling that number.
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