Saturday night

I ended up drinking a half rack of Seirra Nevada Pale. At home. Alone.

I thought I'd walk to the store to get one more beer. Driving was out of the question at this point. For obvious reason. I'm glad that even when I'm shitfaced, I still have the common sense not to do anything to stupid.

I got to the store. An easy half mile walk. Then it hit me that there was a bar only another mile-mile and a half away. For whatever reason, I decided to go for it. By this time, it was raining like a bitch too. I guess 6 months of non adventure finally culminated. So I went for it.

I was busy texting with a friend on the walk there, so that helped whittle away the time. When I got there, I beelined for a stool, and sat. I asked for a good IPA, and was told for $5 I could get a good IPA and a free glass. Deal.

It was a nice, heavy glass. One more for the cupboard.

I drank few more, between texting. The bartendress was really cool. She put up with my "What other beers do ya have?' babble.

Last call was called at 1:15am. What the hell? I argued, kinda, for a minute. I'd had enough anyway. Surprised I even got served, but like I said, I can be a pretty good drunk when I need to be.

I started walking home. It was only about 1:30, and I passed a convenience store. Ah, what's one more 22? I bought one, but I don't remember what it was. Stopped to take a piss by some construction site, and it was then I decided I'd better find a side street to walk home, since I about fell over, and had a full, opened 22 in my hand. I made it home, don't know when, and passed out.

As expected, I felt like shit on Sunday and didn't get my laundry done.