Oh man, the teaser trailer for Spider-Man 3 is out, and after the lamenitude of X-Men 3 and Superman Returns, along with the fanboy loser wetdream that is Ghost Rider, the Spider-Man 3 trailer freakin rules.
Even the normally not-with-the-geek GAC squealed, or at least didn’t throw something. Dude, she’s such a B—- sometimes…
But shes a hot b—-.
On Sunday we headed to friends’ house so AT could tinker on their comp
uter and we could have a lovely meal.
The lovely meal was accompanied by lovely home-made wine. Quite a lot of it, actually. Wine was followed by more friends showing up, which was followed by champagne, followed by Scotch, followed by beer.
Followed by room spinning, followed by vomiting. Up until that point, I had a ton of fun.
GAC’s alcohol poisoning equation:
3w+2c+1(finger)s+1b=vomit
I think I might have that tattooed on me so that this never, ever, ever happens again. I don’t know if it was the over-all quantity of alcohol, or the mixture. I’m sure others at the get-together wagered over that while I was locked in the bathroom.
We spent the night (obviously) and when I woke at 6:30 needing to vomit yet again, I got AT to take me home. Where I just happened to have some phenegran. In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have taken it. I should have stayed sober(ish) so that I could rid my body of the toxins, but the idea of a puke-free slumber was too much. I slept soundly until 12:30, threw up some more, watched Magnum P.I., munched a couple crackers, had some water and began to feel a lot better.
As is the way with drunken conversations, touchy-feely things were said and oaths were made. Though I’m not sure if oral agreements are legal and binding when both parties are in their cups. I’ll do some research and get back to you on that..
