It's one of those mornings where I wake up at 8:30 because my body is trained to. Where I can feel the impending hangover. I can see it like a thunderstorm on the horizon, and I await the pain and destruction it will bring. I just listened to one of my roommate's songs on iTunes, and in my half drunken state, the experience was too weird, the thought that I was doing shots with this disembodied voice less than seven hours ago, and eating McDonald's (oh shite, I went to McDonald's, didn't I?) with it less than six.
I love the way wee bits of information, details and sometimes large chunks of the evening slowly swoop their way back into my conscious mind as I sober/wake up. I met this girl that I went to high school with last eve. Jennifer G, or something like that. She was two or three years older than I, and apparently, when I was but a wee freshman, hit me accedentaly with a door and knocked me the fuck out. I have zero recollection of this event. Which I guess holds with the assertion that I was knocked the fuck out. In any event, this girl was ab-sa-tively gorgeous. And she talked to me for a good solid 30 minutes. And I could barely form a sentence at this point (this is hyperbole, ladies and gents, I'm actually quite an eloquent drunk) but she still hung around and flirted with me. So why am I here alone, typing on the computer at 9am instead of still in bed with Jennifer G? I have no idea.
But I am listening to Spoon. And fuck it. If I had brought her home, she might not have liked Spoon, and then where would I be?
I will no longer do the devil's wishes.Posted by orion at March 29, 2003 09:08 AM | TrackBack