I've been having a little difficulty finding the desire to do anything more than drink after work. Perhaps it's my pea-brained, big muscled coworker driving me to do so or perhaps it's due to the thousand-year-old, ignorant ladies that I encounter every day.
Nonetheless it seems like this may be becoming a thing.
Earlier today, my friend drove me to work at 530 in the morning since the previous evening had been filled with fierce chugging of margaritas and $2 PBRs thus finding the need to leave my car and bike at a friends' house. When I finally finished my day at an early 12:45, I knew it was time to start the party. I went to pick up my car and drove around trying to decide which restaurant in which I would chose to drink mimosas with complete strangers. During the drive my friend Ryan called me and asked me to join him at Juanita's. Of course they don't have champagne there, which after an anxiety-filled search for parking and work day was definitely a deep desire of mine. However, I was fairly easily swayed into consuming 2 pitchers of PBR with Ryan and an additional few glasses. After having both our bartender and later our server when our party grew asked us to close out as they were going home, we decided it was time for a change of venue. We walk to the Upper Deck still very much in time for happy hour and I order another PBR. The thought of being up again at the ass-crack of dawn began to loom in the back of my mind and I started to think about closing my tab. After saying goodbye to my friends and bartender I left, picked up a free burrito from Moe's SW Grill, stopped by work to pick up a few extra dollars that I knew I would need for my unexpectedly long time I spent in the parking garage, and got in my car. I left the parking garage paying only $6 for my $9 fee, since that was frankly all I had left. Got home, threw some vegan cheese on my burrito, nuked it, washed my face and prepared to spend part of my evening in my bed watching The Simpsons on DVD. I woke up just an hour or so ago to stinky morning after breath and leftover Moe's chips still on my bed.
I guess what I'm getting at here is that my fun evenings out generally start to suck when I begin to have anxiety about my work shift that begins many hours later. And that I hope I'll be able to one day, just drink all day and not work 6 days a week.