So this past weekend was Halloween, right? Aside from being a great time where women dress in next to nothing, it's also a time to come back to class/work on Monday morning and look at all the people you did inappropriate things with over the weekend and feel embarrassed.
That statement, of course, assumes that your job/school had a Halloween party involving a great deal of alcohol.
Now that the weekend is passed (like a kidney stone), I shall enumerate some of the more embarrassing events.
First, thanks to the magic of facebook, you can clearly see me destroying a very cute picture of a Couple by standing in the background and cheesing it up.
Actually, I still haven't decided how I feel about that picture. On the one hand, if the girl of the couple were only able to take the stick out of her a§§ for about 3 seconds, she'd think the picture was funny, so I'm irritated at her for being such a stick in the mud who gets pissed off when you disrupt her world. There's another word for that, but I'll refrain.
On the other hand, I hate to piss people off, and I'm sure she spent half an hour crying because such an important moment was ruined forever.
Second, when I get in a "state," (meaning drunk) I find myself getting very handsy. I believe this results from several factors. A) I naturally like people. B) I'm a lonely guy. C) Due to the dearth of ass in my life, I have to find other ways to get me some.
The wild thing about this is drunk people tend to react pretty positively to handsiness. At least, in the short term. Oh, nothing serious ever comes of it - at least for me - but the overwhelming negative reactions of sober people just don't exist.
Then Monday rolls around. Ah, Monday. The nervous grin. The ridiculously uncomfortable wave. The fleeting thought that probably passes through the girl's mind, "Well, at least I didn't wake up in his bed...."
Yes, no one likes Mondays.
Or maybe I'm just in a bad mood, because I've managed to convince myself that what's-her-name is not, in fact, interested, when I had myself all certain that maybe she was. That's also possible.
Of course, if I go down that thought process, I'll start to get all depressed and start crying about how fat I am.
And no one wants to hear that.