stella

This morning I woke up disheveled, disoriented and fully clothed on the hard wood floor of my living room. I was covered in granola bar wrappers. No pillow. No blanket.

Stumbling through my morning routine I gradually began to piece together the night. I had a total of 4 Stellas at Elephant and Castle, a quantity I could easily crush for breakfast on any given day. But last night was unlike any other encounter I've had with beer, or the 'death juice' as it will now be referred to. Granted I only had 5 chicken wings for dinner last night, I've been a faithful drinker since I was about 16 years old.

After leaving the bar I took the brown line through downtown and headed north toward home. Thank God for phone records. Without fail, I can usually dig into my cell phone and find calls or texts that refresh the blurred events of the night before.

Me: Night. don't forget you still stole my backpack.
C: You mean my traveling back pack :)
Me: OMG! I was just dreaming on the brown line. I don't know where I am.
C: Haha, dreaming of [censored]'s tender touch?
Me: Oh god. Just fell asleep for the second time. C I don't know if im going to make it off the loop. Wake me up again in 30.
C: Wake up N. (angry cow)

It was that last text that eventually woke me up to find I had missed my El stop but fortunately I managed to stagger off the train a mere two stops after my intended destination. So I peeled my forehead from the grease smear I had created on the train's window, and from there I continued my hazy journey home on foot. Along the way I decided it would be a good idea to stop into Walgreen's for the bare necessities:

• 6 packages of Ramen noodles
• 2 Cup-o-Noodles
• 2 boxes of granola bars
• a gallon jug of iced tea

My Dear Stella,

You were a bad girl last night. You took me down. You took me down hard. let's play nice again soon.

I love you more than I can say,
mn