There’s something to be said about repression and that something is “it’s da bomb”
Seriously, if I wasn’t continually able to repress memories of drunken misadventures I would be one very regretful girl, and we all know that regret is the most usless emotion. Instead, I have chosen to believe that my drunk self is an alter ego, who forgets where her best friend’s house is, makes prank phone calls, and skanks around town with a giant martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
That being said, we rang in Jill’s 23rd year in true I Look Good/I Do What I Want fashion. The attire: little black dresses and strappy sandals. The mission: free drinks and a hell of a birthday. Needless to say the mission was accomplished thanks in large part to the new Aussie bartender at The Good Life and Jill’s drunk coworkers at the Blue Wave who treated us to carbombs, and martinis galore at News. We did nothing to be ashamed of. Absolutely nothing.
See what I mean about repression?
Monday, October 13, 2003
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