I am too old to be partying like a rock star. We had so much fun last night, but I can only now even think about typing without exacerbating the headache. Cheap beer in quantity does really awful things to me anymore. Amazing how at sixteen or seventeen we would be almost unfazed. Sleep for three or four hours, get up, go to work for some more beer money, then do the same damn thing all over again. Ah, the resilience of youth.
The Sisterhood of the Traveling Shoes:
The shoes. The $3 red velvet with gold buckles shoes that my friend had removed from my possession during my birthday party. I wore them last night, with white socks that had blue and green flowers on them. Just to mess with my friend, because she hates those shoes with every fiber of her being. Walking home from the bar, I realized that those shoes really did suck, if I could still feel my feet hurting at last call on St. Patty’s day. So I just let her throw them. I might have thrown one at her first, the details are a bit nebulous, but shoes were thrown. I woke up with no shoes and no car keys (I certainly had no intentions of driving, my friend just took my keys a few houses down the road with her, arranging the logistics so that I’d have to come get her before I took off to head home this morning.)
In daylight, we realized that the shoes did not fly as far as we thought they had. They were right in the middle of the street still! I stopped my car, got out and picked them up just because. It’s funny that her hatred of some ugly shoes is so intense. I cannot not poke that kind of bear. All jokes do get old, though. I let Mike throw them away this morning. Those shoes sucked. But I had a damn good time wearing them.