So I got my ass off the couch last night. And it was because of Matador, and his drunk intermittent texts. And it wasn't because I thought Joliet or Fat Tuesday would be so exciting I would talk about it for years to come. I've experienced both before and neither were ever worth more than a days worth of conversation.
No it was because real me was staring current me in the face saying WTF?? This was inadvertently due to this girl and my response to this post, which is a post about boys and friends and alcohol and pancakes and alcohol and probably some disguised douchebaggery and alcohol and hinted about sex and some alcohol leaving the body at some point thank you god and she wrapped up it all up with "Complete fail at moderation." To which I responded Moderation is overrated. And it is. But after I posted that sentence I looked at it and thought what the fuck motherfucker, practice what you preach. Lead by example I always say. If my friends could make me a t-shirt that described me it would probably say Excess is Key. Or Freak. No wait that one is from the ex-girl friends. Strike that.
But seriously. I thought who the fuck am I that I even had a thought that lead me to be sitting on my couch at 10:30pm on Fat Tuesday. So I got my fat ass up, put myself together and got my ass out of the house. I stopped at McDonald's on the way to make myself more fat, effectively ending my 2 week streak of not eating food from a drive through.
There is obviously more to the story I am just incapable of posting at this time. See you tomorrow.