an evening downtown, mmm, just what the doctor ordered... a pint of rum followed by some beer at the bar and tequila bought for me by some random cute guy, I was quite wastered... a damn fun time was had, I must say... oddly enough, I have a tendency to try to speak in a Scottish or Irish accent when I'm really smashed... I don't know why, I can't even come close when I'm sober, I can't imagine why I try it when I'm drunk, but I do... so cute guy named Joshua and his friend Katie are at the bar and he buys me a shot and I thank him and Katey in my very best Irish accent... now that I'm sober I realize how silly I sounded, but they chuckled and got a laugh from it so all's good... I bought them both a drink for being such good sports, they seemed to like that... I'm determined that the next time I'm out I'm going to sew a sign on my sleeve that says "YOU CANNOT SPEAK IRISH, SCOTTISH OR ANYTHING REMOTELY CLOSE" just so I'll remember dear Katey... heh...
being sloshed I headed for McDonald's which was slower than usual (it's at a crawl at the best of times...) and I got to listen to a drunkass young kid trying to pick a fight with some other guy in line... his tactic was to call him 'faggot in the pink shirt' until he got him to fight... it didn't work, the other guy wanted nothing to do with him... but he came pretty close to having my friend and I killing him on the spot... I had dreams of driving over the drunkass biotch in my car, I woke up still drunk, but entertained that he was roadkill...
rum. rum. rum. silly boi...
