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Tuesday, August 19, 2003
Stats That Shape a Weekend (Revisited)
Ounces of beer consumed Friday night: over 90 (i.e., way too fucking much)
Hours of sleep Saturday morning: five (if I was lucky)
Hours spent hungover on Saturday: all of them

I started writing a post Saturday morning after my body, for some reason, allowed me to get up a little after 7 a.m. (I guess my body wanted to punish me.)

I started writing about Friday night—going to play trivia by myself at BW3 and how half the place was closed for remodeling and how they had a (very) limited draft beer selection and how I had two 23-ounce Miller Lites and how my friend didn’t show up (because, as I learned later, he was locked out of his car) and how I had to endure Miami Dolphin fans and how I decided to leave when my friend wasn’t there because I don’t wear a watch and the BW3 clock was about 30 minutes fast and how I went to Poor Paul’s Pourhouse and ordered a tiny 10-ounce Amber Bock and drunk-dialed another friend who was supposed to be there from a pay phone and how I played some more trivia and drank some more and got to witness a confrontation between my shiksa friend and the man-ass Jewish girl who just had a boob job and how we left there to see Girls on Film play at Floyd’s and how everything was foggy after that but I somehow made it home okay—but I stopped writing because my brain hurt.


Disclaimer: I was writing this post for Monday. I had to leave work unexpectedly, so I had to delay posting it. Sorry for the delay. More later.