Today, January 11th 2010 marks my 27th birthday and yet another year I realize I have not gone anywhere with my life. So, to forget, I am going to be drinking myself stupid at the bar and probably bringing back the tour de fat that Scott and i used to do a few years ago (we'd basically just do a drunken trek across The Greenwich village to get meal after meal at various locations and sometimes even stop at this deli in Inwood on the drive home).
Who? Belligerent drunks who are down for last minute happenings.
What? the destruction of my liver for yet another year
When? Probably when I get my fat ass out of bed, shower, and get dressed... so about 9pm the earliest we're looking at.
Where? Off The Wagon: 109 Macdougal St (between Bleeker and W 3rd)
Why? My birthday + dollar beer specials running all night = probable disaster
How? Well, you see, when alcohol enters the blood stream, it inebriates you to a point and.... I think it's a lot easier to say I am a lush whose social circles include other lushes.
Yes, I know this is very last minute, but I never really ever like celebrating my birthday cause it just gets me depressed that I'm getting older and have nothing to show for it. Eddie called me earlier tonight asking if I wanted to go to Off the Wagon for dollar beers and I said sure (mainly because he said he'd be my sugar daddy and pay for most if not all of my drinks.. which is the equivalent to saying you'll donate money to build a new wing at a prestigious school) and decided to do this and post it on here since most of you creepy weirdos stalk me on this thing or twitter and it's easier than sending out mass texts or emails (ok, maybe texting or emailing would be easier/better, but I don't like getting swarmed with fucking texts or emails of stupidity all the time).
Done and Done (and yes, that picture of Danzig with a party hat and balloons is quite possibly the best birthday card ever made)
...oh yea, and a designated driver for me would just be peachy.
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