Scotty leaves the end of the week for North Dakota (if I type with one eye closed, I can catch my typos), so I decided to drink with him, even though he didn't ask it of me. It started with a few sips of beer at summerfest. Then I decided that when we went to the Bird I would say goodbye to Jeremiah Weed, the dirty whore, with a double of him and coke. Then I had another double Weed, because the first one wasn't as powerful as I remembered. Then I finished a pitcher of Bud Light, which I hate, and then went to Marty's for 2 seven and sevens, and you know Marty's only serves doubles. All in all, I figure I had the equivalent of 14 drinks tonight. 14.
And I don't feel guilty. Well, I do, but I also feel really good. I forgot how good alcohol made me feel, and it makes me think that I never had a problem with it. I stopped drinking for my clients, is that a valid reason?
It should be enough. I can do without alcohol. It should have been a sign when I saw a client, the beautiful, very straight with amazing girlfriend client at both bars. And yet I pressed on. I also got to meet my nemesis, the sales rep for Charter that I have been fighting with for months. I hope I didn't come off as a complete lush. He said that I sounded much older on the phone, I hope I didn't lose any advantage I had with him. He has the prettiest green eyes.
Well, I'll process when I'm sober. My sleeping pill is kicking in, so I need to get strapped in to the CPAP. Goodnight.
I am such a fuckup.
