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And Drink To Forget

Having felt like crap all week and becoming increasingly irritable (my uterus already made the period joke so you don't have to), I stormed off for the bar last night. I didn't go there to drink. I did drink, but I didn't go just to drink.

Every Wednesday over the summer, Lux shows a movie in their back patio area. They're usually B movies or amazing documentaries. This week, they showed the Ireland classic "Stitches" about a bad-ass party clown who gets killed in the first scene (well, the first scene after clown-fucking his girlfriend) by getting stabbed through the eye... twice (and not for the last time).

Before the movie began, I caught the tail end of a Found Footage Fest dvd they were showing, where I watched the world's shittiest 'pro' yo-yoer and learned the proper way to massage my opossum. You read that right (and that's not a euphemism).

I sat next to a nice hipster kid named Torin and we shared a few laughs over the start of the movie. He showed up at scene two, so I caught him up. Brendan and Casey showed up a little less than half through the film. I think they loved it as much as I did.

After the show, we had the chance to talk about what's been going on with us lately. They just got back from Firefly (which is like Burning Man, if that's a more familiar term). 2014 has not been kind to Brendan especially, so they were glad to have had a nice vacation from the world. I may go with them next year. I finally got to talk to someone about Paul- how much I've been thinking of him lately, how much I miss him, and how much I hurt for him. It had to be Brendan - they were best friends. We all were. We all understood. It was hard for me after the first few years, when I tried getting the gang out to Jay's to celebrate Paul's birthday, along with mine (he's three years and one day older than me). No one seemed interested, like they all wanted to forget... I felt angry over that. But we reminisced last night. Brendan and I held each other, fighting back tears, drinking, and finding things to laugh at. And I feel a lot lighter. A lot lighter. I'm still weepy over typing this, but overall, I feel better.

(Booze paragraph. Skip if you want.)

I was a lot more drunk than I realized. I'd only had two Long Islands and a short rum & coke. I apparently can tolerate less and less as I get older. I don't drink often like I did in my twenties. I used to be able to pound back half a bottle of tequila and half a bottle of Jamison in the course of one long night and still walk a straight line and wake up perky in the morning. But three drinks and I'm through? I even pounded back a few glasses of water and still woke up woozy. Lame. But you know what? I'm honestly over binge drinking. Sucks that I like the taste, though. That's what keeps my tab open. But I'm good with sticking to one or two, or a few beers. I'm much better at drinking beer than I was in my twenties.

(End booze paragraph.)

Despite the hangover, I felt really good in the morning. Not physically, obviously. My mental storm-cloud cleared up a lot more than I expected. I'll have to invite them out next week. Less booze this time (for me, anyway). I love it at Lux on Wednesdays. And the entry and popcorn are free.