Went to a party last weekend. Ended up drinking way too much. When this would happen in the past, the night would be lost forever, living only in the memories of people I insulted or made feel uncomfortable. Thanks to technology, however, I have an actual record of texts (some failed to be delivered, as my coordination took a severe nosedive after the 30th drink) to document the night. Just like the brave actors on CSI, we can piece together a night from a sparse set of clues.
To Several Recipients: We are 138!!*
To Todd: Listening to Love and Rockets. Drunk.
From Todd: I'm watching Floor right now. Drunk.
To Todd: Dry Ice?
From Todd: They've got 2 smoke machines.
To Todd: Oy Vey. I love that shit.
To Pat: Love and Rockets id awesmm
To Pat (Undelivered) Now I'm wearing a boa and listening to show tunes. KICK ASS!!!
To Todd: I want to pilot
I have no idea what the I want to pilot thing meant. Was I revealing my secret dream of going to pilot school?
There ends our texts. Nothing like technology in the hands of drunk middle aged men.
* I have what I feel is an endearing habit of texting old punk lyrics after I've had a few.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
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