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2005-05-07 - 9:12 p.m.

My liver! My liver!

Imagine me saying that in my very best Beavis voice. I was BAD on Friday. BAD.

A friend from college was stopping through Chicago on an Amtrak layover. He asked if he could stay with us, and of course! We love having people stay over. So we picked him up at Union Station and he had arranged for get together with another college friend as well. I was thrilled! I don't see college friends enough -- even the ones who live in Chicago. We tend to get pulled into our everyday lives, taking care of the dog, working, finals, cooking dinner.

We started at our house. The dog was ecstatic! TWO NEW PEOPLE! The college people were worthy of the weizenbock, so we broke out a liter of that and each had a glass. Then decided to head down to our favorite bar to talk and enjoy each other's company.

When we walked into the bar, J. was working the door!!! Now, it's a long, convoluted, fairly unnecessary story, but here's the short version. J. worked at the bar while his wife was going to school. They planned to move to another state in December and had a going away party and all. Then my husband fell off the face of the earth due to the second-year-of-law-school craptastic second semester. So we didn't get back to the favorite bar more than twice all semester. It turns out, they hadn't moved after all. After some time spent with family, they had come back and have been here for a couple of months. We were very happy to see him, and sat at the table near the door so he could continue to check IDs while talking to us.

At this point, we were with three people we hadn't seen in a long time and VERY much enjoy their company. I got a Blue Moon (not the best wheat beer out there, but it's usually my default when I want something not too heavy because most bars serve it), we all got beverages, and we started talking. And talking. And had so much fun. J. was still working the door, but had gotten fairly tipsy by that point. A girl walked in, seemed happy to see him, gave him a hug, then he turned to me and said, "I have no idea who that was. But I can't ask to see her ID once she's hugged me! Maybe she's figured out how to scam the system." We were giggling about that one for a while.

I never really felt that drunk. I was talking and was brilliant! And so funny! Everyone laughed at things I said, and my friends were all brilliant and funny too! J. had started using his connections to supply us with subsequent rounds, so we were drinking with no thought to money -- or how much we had imbibed at that point. The last beer I had was a Blue Moon -- but not in a pint glass. In a HUGE FREAKING hefeweizen glass. Now, I knew that I was far more under the influence than I had expected. And the bar started emptying out because it was after 2am. We had closed down the bar. We are drinking rock stars. We sucked down the last beverages, said goodbye to J., and started walking the block and a half home. On the walk I got very angry at my jeans (being pretty short, I tend to only own pants that go past my feet and drag on the ground -- they were making a swishing noise) and stopped to roll up the cuffs. Angrily.

Once we got back to the house, I checked my email. Now, you know how people often have a tendency to drunk dial friends? And they shouldn't really have a phone near them when they've been drinking? Yeah, that's me with email. Perhaps because I am a massively nerdy-type? I don't try to explain. It just happens. As an example, I once came home, checked my email, and found an ASPCA Legislative Action Alert. So I sent drunk emails to all of my state representatives urging them to back legislation that would increase funds for spay/neuter programs. Poor representatives. And yes, that was very embarrassing.

On this specific night, I got an email saying that Dawnie had updated. I read her very funny and descriptive post about her own drunkenness, and decided that I had to inform her of my current situation -- especially since she had been to that bar before. And I did so here in her comments section.

I went to bed at around 3am, and woke up at 7am. My body hates me when I drink too much, and only lets me sleep for 4 hours or so to punish me. But, being that I'm a morning person, I was okay with that. I was up, perky, and cooking omelettes for the friend and the husband by 8am.

We took the friend to Giordano's (mmm...) and to Union Station, then went on to our homebrewing club's Big Brew Day location. The tiredness had caught up to me, and I was VERY antisocial and ended up falling asleep for over an hour on the host's couch. To demonstrate how tired I was -- I fell asleep while a BASEBALL game was on. I do not fall asleep to baseball. It's a sacrilege.

So now it's evening, my cold is worse, and I decided to stay home (when we came home to let the dog out). My husband went back, but I wanted to do laundry. And by "do laundry", I mean "sit on the couch and stare blankly at the TV without talking to any other humans".

The wrap-up: I was bad, and now I'm paying. I'm too tired to make or drink any more beer. I was too tired to watch baseball (though with the quality of the Cubs' play lately, it was something of a blessing). Here's how I feel (click the picture to enlarge, read the warning, and see other brewing photos):

beer trailer sign

On a less debaucherous note:

Chicago had some lake effect fog hanging over downtown and we were lucky enough to be driving south on the Kennedy Expressway at the perfect time to see it. It looked like the top of the Hancock building was floating in the air. Again, click on the picures to enlarge them and to see other pics that I'm not including in this post.

Hancock in clouds

skyline in clouds

And finally...

Here are some pictures for no real reason except that they make me feel good.

Famous Toots
Hee, hee. Famous Toot's.

Ogie wants to come in.
My dog is so beautiful. Even when he stares through the hole in the screen that he made one day while panicking that we were going to leave without him.

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