Can't be mad at a weekend where I acquired a full adult banana suit, went to a wedding, made some huge steps in creating my revolutionary rad fem community, woke up naked everyday and committed some serious acts of social and linguistic terrorism.
I can't be mad, but my body is sure bummed the fuck out. It's a shame I cannot choose the synapses and thought patterns that get obliterated when I take my drinking seriously. Otherwise, the whole idea of re-booting my emotional and intellectual computer via booze would be trademarked by now.
I'ma go mainline some gatorade and get back in to functional adult mode.
And continue my program of single white female-ing every good looking gentleman and lady in this town.
Good talk.
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