all i needed was a silent bob...well, a silenter bob

A few good things were salvaged from last night:

I made it to 7-Eleven in time to get a six pack, which is still untouched in the fridge.

I may have found my new living quarters as of June. It's a bit more expensive than where I'm living now, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to swing it, but at least I won't have to go searching for somewhere.

I guess only two good things were salvaged from last night. My mistake.

Last night was a good time thought, as my liver and I wandered from party to bar in a vaguely happy haze. The haze, however, got considerably murkier as I wandered out of the local watering hole and set out for the 7-Eleven. My legs and eyelids began to feel rather heavy. Guinness sure does make me sleepy; so much so that curling up on the sidewalk sounded like a good idea. But I wasn't that drunk, so I managed to make it inside the 7-Eleven, buy a six pack and call a cab. The dispatcher told me it'd be 40 minutes. I said that's fine. I'd been doing so much walking this week because I was so broke, but luckily a magic check made its way into my mailbox and I was able to drink away just a little bit of my parents' charity--most of it went to my utilities, and the remaining will be hoarded greedily 'til glorious payday on Monday.

I sat on the sidewalk and waited for my cab. The rest of the dregs straggled in from their respective nights of debauchery. One dude in a Hawaiian shirt quizzed a young kid in an Iron Maiden hoody about his knowledge of the band.

"Don't tell me you grew up on Iron Maiden," said the slurring Hawaiian shirted guy, handing a cigarette to the hoodied kid. "I grew up on Iron Maiden. How old are you?"

"I'm 23," answered the kid.

"I grew up on Iron Maiden," repeated the drunk.

Hawaiian shirt also gave a cigarette to this dreadlocked hippie transient girl with some kind of tribal drum. He told her "I love you," as she walked away.

Another hippie-fied woman rolled through the parking lot--she had wild curly hair and a beautiful, if not a bit grimy, face. She was wearing a tight black hoody, blue sweat pants and sneakers. Ratty as fuck, but you could tell she'd clean up nice by the way she walked. I'd like to think so anyway. It gave me something to idly ponder while waiting for that damn cab. It had to be more than 40 minutes by then; but really, it was only about 20.

Another blind drunk with a goatee was spitting and howling at the front door. He'd just made it in under the 2am shut off point for alcohol sales. He asked the passersby if they were being safe and tried to hit on one of the hottest bartenders in town--and also one of the fastest--who left her car running as she ran in for cigarettes.

An odd couple strolled up and made out with each other as if they didn't want anyone to know--sneaking kisses in the parking lot. I think I heard mention that he was her boyfriend's friend, but then again, I could have just been pretending to hear that. I was pretty tired, and that cab was late; but really, it wasn't set to arrive for another 15 minutes.