Well, Almost All of It

I got drunk last weekend.

Here are some pictures:

Here I am making a mockery of cleanliness (and balance):

Someone bought pizza.
I end up at Shandera's (I'm trying to initiate a threesome between his fiance and I. And him. This is not a secret).
I wake up.
This has never happened before.
I forget that I had a flask of whiskey the night prior.
My first thought of the day (I swear) is this: "Jesus, why do I feel so shitty?!"
Then it all comes back.
I almost vomit that morning. I tell the cat (the black one) to "Get da fuck, cat," while I wait, spitting into the toilet occaisonally.
Dodged bullet. But let's be clear; I do not feel well.
I pull on my shirt, and say while doing so, "This shirt smells terrible."
"Do you have any idea how much booze you spilled on that shirt?" Shandera asks, surprised.
I had, in fact, forgotten that as well.
I was rather sloshy with my drinks. Over-gesturing.
Over-swirling.