Ugh...

Today we're suffering from, what is known as a "voluntary illness" or a "signal that you had to too much fun".

Long story short: Red Wine, Red Wine, Red Wine, Bourbon, Green, Beer, Beer, Irish Car Bomb, Shot that tasted like Easter threw up in my mouth. Yes, it's always a good night when you can shoot the moon (Wine, Beer, Liquor, Mixed Drink).

Violated Two of the Sacred Rules of Drinking: "Never drink anything that Evil Friend gives you" and "Never drink anything that you don't know what it is". Usually Evil Friend buys unrecognizable drinks, so the violation is usually a two-fer.

As we were sobering up in the bar at around 2AM, we watched "Striped Shirt Guy" try to hook up, badly, with a girl way out of his league who was obviously disinterested in him. Striped Shirt Guy would move in to make out, she'd dodge, he'd try to talk to her again, move in, dodge, talk, etc. This repeated itself for 10 minutes until she bolted without warning. Striped Shirt Guy tried to follow but couldn't quite nagivate the bar without using the wall for support. He then went off to try to find someone else to hook up with, and failed at that too. Hysterically funny.

Last call is an incredibly scary moment where you realize that the hot girl you were talking to is only really hot in the dark. If you were sober you'd understand that hot girls don't hang around until last call; they've already been taken home.

Striped Shirt Guy followed us out into the below zero weather, wasted, and without a jacket, probably on the hunt for an after hours party to nurse his wounded pride.

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This post brought to you by: Advil