Last night having been thrice cancelled upon this weekend, I sought the more reliable companionship of an entire bottle of Asti. Inexperienced in this form of consumption, I expected to discover a giddy, show-tune singing version of myself. I just ended up groggy, uncoordinated, and still having a fairly lucid phone conversation with City. On the up side, after mumbling a quick prayer of, "God, please tell Satan to quit bugging me" I fell into the wonderful, corpse-like sleep of a college frat boy.
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