Manic Witch

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

I love the nightlife. I got to boogie. On the disco round, yeah.

Um, no. Not anymore.
Hubs and I went to a local dive last night for a couple of cold ones and realized just how much our lives have changed from just a few years ago. Seeing Norm and Cliff sitting at the bar and knowing they are there night, after night, after night got us to thinking. We can't and don't want to do that anymore. We have happily settled down and realized that puking lost its appeal a long time ago.

We compared notes on our lives before we met.
Right after our divorces, we both sowed our wild oats. We both remember punching the 9-5 timeclock, heading home for a disco nap and then heading to our local watering holes. Just for a couple. That's all. Just 1 or 2 drinks. After all, we had to work the next day. All of a sudden we would hear those two little words every barfly dreads..."last call." Last call? Shit! How late IS it? FUCK! It's 2am! I have to go to work in the morning! OH, its gonna be a bad day today. Then waking up in the morning after a 3 hour "nap". (Its only 3 hours worth of sleep, that qualifies it as a nap, not "sleep"). The worst part is checking your wallet, realizing its empty and you know you had a fair amount of money when you started the evening. "Oooohhh. That explains why I feel like shit this morning." And its worse for chicks. Since we usually have some guy/s buying us drinks, AND we have an empty wallet, its a wonder we arent in the ER having our stomachs pumped. I used to buy Advil and Pepto by the case.

NON-smokers can stop reading right here. This part gets kind of gross.





On the weekends, when you don't have to go out anywhere, and you are out of smokes, and you see with much relief that you haven't emptied the ashtray...C'mon. Don't tell me YOU haven't done this..."Ick. But I'm out of smokes and there is no WAY I can drag my sorry, sick, head-achy, hungover ass to the Kwikie Mart. And those are MY butts, not my room-mates. THAT would be gross." But the butts are so small that you have to hold it away from your face to light it so you don't fry off your eyebrows, and then you have to hold it like a roach so you don't burn your fingers or lips. (I've seen Fast Times. Thats how I know how to do that. *Ahem*). Then you realize just how nasty they taste since they are chared tobacco and it only makes you even sicker to your stomach than you already are, so you do suck it up and head over to see Apu. Then a quick stop at McDonalds for a greasy Quarter Pounder, and over to the video store so you can have something to do while your body tries to recover from the damage you've inflicted on it just a few short hours ago. This is when you utter those famous last words...."Never again."


**Phone rings...
Friend/sibling: "Hey Manic! A bunch of us are going out tonight. Wanna meet up?"
Me: "Hell no! I feel like crap. I'm broke and I have to work in the morning."
Friend/sibling: "Awww. C'mon. Just for a couple. One or two drinks. I swear."
Me: "Ok, but just one or two. I am NOT staying until last call."**

Yes. We are soooo glad we are past that.

Manic Witch wove her spell:: 2/21/2006 07:39:00 AM ::
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