Sangria and Jager

It's hot. Way too hot. I don't like it. Next season please. Even some rain. I would love some rain. A really good storm. I'm probably in the minority here, people seem to love laying out and baking in the sun. But I prefer to be able to sleep at night and currently? I can't because its too damn hot.

OK I think I'm done with that. The heat makes me cranky too, did I mention that?

All the days are starting to run together. I'm pretty sure that today is Monday but not being employed I can't be completely certain. Monday really isn't a terrible day. I mean today? I slept late. I'm blogging without the fear of someone walking up behind me and catching me. I plan to have breakfast at some point. If it wasn't so hot...it could actually be a pretty nice day.

I guess you are all wondering how Friday night's "work" drinks went. Maybe you aren't, but you should be because its really all I have.

It was actually kind of awesome. Amy wasn't there, neither were John or Turd or anyone that would have made it awkward for me. Veronica was there, but if she's not in charge of me, I don't honestly mind her. She's actually kind of a nice, fun person.

Guess what was on special? Sangria pitchers. The last time I had sangria...I was in Spain. It also happened to be the first time I had sangria. A friend and I were traveling, we were in Madrid, and sangria seemed like a good idea. Well it was a good idea because after sharing 2 pitchers we were smashed. And refreshed. There isn't actually a story attached to the sangria drinking, its just me wandering aimlessly down memory lane.

So a pitcher of sangria was shared. I think there was also a pitcher of blueberry mohitos involved and then we were kicked out!

I would like to say it was because we were all so drunk that we were disturbing other patrons, but its nothing as exciting as that (and also, I'm not a lightweight). None of us had the foresight to make a reservation on a Friday night. So there was another party coming in at 7 and we were being removed from their table. Lame. We walked over to another bar that at shortly after 7 was completely deserted. Which according to me, makes it the perfect place.

I started off by being good with just rum and cokes but at some point someone started getting jagerbombs to show up at the table. Anna doesn't do shots but shots kept appearing in front of her. Because I am a good person, a real team player, I took the shots for her. I feel like this is material that I can use in a job interview at some point: Give an example of a time you were a team player. Well there was this one time that I did shots for my friend who couldn't. Ace material no?

One by one people started to leave. Eventually there were only like 5 of us left. And because we are all ancient we were done at 11. Again, according to me, this is kind of perfect. In bed before midnight? Awesome. I'm looking forward to early bird specials too.

Did I mention that I wore heels? Well I did. And I wore them all night. The next day? Crippled. Not just my feet, although there were kind of sore too. No, my knee. Remember how I had that issue with my knee months ago and I didn't actually injure it as far as I know but it hurt? Well its never actually gone away, despite the icing, the heating, the pills and the rest. After Friday night's debacle, the knee was actually really really painful. I've even conceded that I need to go to a doctor. Which for me, is a big deal. I don't go to doctors unless I'm halfway dead. Or bleeding uncontrollably (and then they actually have to do something aside from prescribing rest).

And that is a summary of my Friday night. My life is so glamourous. I didn't even tell you about the grilled cheese that I had for lunch on Saturday. A story for another day. If you're lucky.

If you are still stuck in a Cubicle prison, here's hoping that it goes by quickly and painlessly. And Anna? Welcome to your first day of freedom. Feels good doesn't it?