F - it!
I just spent the last hour and a half, from 1:30 until 3:00 AM in the morning, CLEANING and DOING LAUNDRY!
Ok... so, before you go thinking I'm a complete lunitic, let me explain. Dave and I had all weekend together, and my parents were out of town tonite, so we cooked a spegetti dinner and had plans to go back to his place to spend the night.
Well, everything was working out great. Dinner was wonderful, he was doing his laundry, we watched Mr. Deeds and shopped a little. Then we randomly decided we'd go bowling.
Well, that was a lot of fun, and I got my highest score yet (112, no cheating!), but it's beside the point.
Dave had been drinking all evening, but wasn't acting drunk. I had a couple wine coolers with dinner, and by the time we left at 10pm to bowl, he had had about 18 beers.
After all is said and done, JUST at the bowling alley, he had another bottled beer and TWO WHOLE pitchers of stuff. He was wasted: tripping, dropping his ball, slurring speech... the whole she-bang, and I have to admit, it was pretty fun to observe.
I drove home and he crashes on the couch after making sure I knew "we are going back to Richmond."
So, he's sleeping, I'm cleaning up, finishing HIS laundry, packing up his work gear, and loading all 100+ pounds of it into his truck. (YEAH - - GO ME!)
Anyway... he wont wake up. He's dead on my couch right now. And I get to sleep alone... bravo. And, I bet he'll grouch in the morning, "Why didn't you wake me up sooner? You folded my socks wrong! I told you we were going to Richmond! Where's my stuff? Where is the beer?"
And this is what I feel like you, "Fuck it."
Sounds pretty damn good to me!
Ok... so, before you go thinking I'm a complete lunitic, let me explain. Dave and I had all weekend together, and my parents were out of town tonite, so we cooked a spegetti dinner and had plans to go back to his place to spend the night.
Well, everything was working out great. Dinner was wonderful, he was doing his laundry, we watched Mr. Deeds and shopped a little. Then we randomly decided we'd go bowling.
Well, that was a lot of fun, and I got my highest score yet (112, no cheating!), but it's beside the point.
Dave had been drinking all evening, but wasn't acting drunk. I had a couple wine coolers with dinner, and by the time we left at 10pm to bowl, he had had about 18 beers.
After all is said and done, JUST at the bowling alley, he had another bottled beer and TWO WHOLE pitchers of stuff. He was wasted: tripping, dropping his ball, slurring speech... the whole she-bang, and I have to admit, it was pretty fun to observe.
I drove home and he crashes on the couch after making sure I knew "we are going back to Richmond."
So, he's sleeping, I'm cleaning up, finishing HIS laundry, packing up his work gear, and loading all 100+ pounds of it into his truck. (YEAH - - GO ME!)
Anyway... he wont wake up. He's dead on my couch right now. And I get to sleep alone... bravo. And, I bet he'll grouch in the morning, "Why didn't you wake me up sooner? You folded my socks wrong! I told you we were going to Richmond! Where's my stuff? Where is the beer?"
And this is what I feel like you, "Fuck it."
Sounds pretty damn good to me!