It's me, Sally.

Who Cares? I’m Drunk.

It always starts as a good idea, doesn’t it? One minute you’re pounding back double whiskey drinks and the next minute you find yourself at a house party with people you don’t know and they all love you. You won’t remember their names, you won’t remember their faces, and you don’t know why they love you but you suddenly love yourself.

Briefly, you ask yourself if you’re too old for this, but you’re drunk so who cares if you’re twenty five and these things happen most weekends. Who cares if you get a hangover now and then? Personally, I think hangover days are some of the best I’ve had with greasy foods, movies and just time to relax. Hell, get a hungover friend to join you because whatever you talk about will, without a doubt, be comedic gold.

Plus, there are always the stories you carry with you throughout life when you look back at the fun times you’ve had.

Like the time we got drunk and ended up crashing some bachelor party by accident in which they liked us so much the group of guys had us join them on a party bus that drove around the city. We picked up a few hot girls and the night ended with drinking wine in a hot tub at their house. The next day we couldn’t find Shawn, and after half an hour we reached him on his cell phone where he told us he woke up to find himself on a train toMontreal. Luckily, he didn’t get too far so we gladly drove the two hours to pick him up and ate at a diner where we met this gorgeous bohemian girl. Of course she ended up having weed which we smoked in some random playground while swinging on swings like very high five year olds.

Then there was the time that my friends and I took a roadtrip to see a concert and we got fucked up all over town. Jimmy decided to get a room in the hotel that allowed smoking and got an escort to come over where he just made her message his back while he watched a shitty movie. After the kinks in his back were better, he made her leave, grabbed a slice of pizza then passed out while still eating it.

I also have memories of people I’ve met, places I’ve been, good times I’ve had with people I care about and yeah, maybe I should be working on other goals. Some people think that I’m irresponsible, immature or that I’m wasting brain cells. Sure, maybe I should start to think about a future, perhaps with a pretty little wife who’ll want to have my kids someday and we’ll live a nice relaxed life in a house I can afford with an awesome career I love.

But shit, last night I went to bed with one woman and woke up with two. Who the fuck are you to tell me that I’m making bad decisions?