I’m not sure if this story shows how I’m maturing or if it serves as further proof about how pathetic I’ve become…
When I was in college I did the typical college things. Most notably, I partied. And, of course, partying gave way to stupid and/or hilarious decisions. The most common decision was to drunk dial people and/or incoherently ramble about how “awesome” someone was. You know, like, “Hey, John, you know Karen right? Of course you do! Isn’t she just AWESOME. She’s so pretty and cool and awesome. Like SO awesome, you know?”
Oh, the good ole days!
A little while back a couple friends and I noticed I had a new drunken obsession.
Was I drunk-dialing again? Nope.
Mumbling about some hot girl I worked with? Negative.
Whining about missing my ex? Not at all.
Blabbing about some chick at the bar? No, sir.
It is none of the typical drunken hangups.
Instead, my drunk brain turns to…my dog. That’s right, my damn dog. I now ramble on about how great my dog is. Sigh, what has become of me?
I ask whatever poor group of saps happens to be out with me: “Why would anyone give away my dog? Why was she in a kennel? I mean, seriously, who would give up such a great pet!?”
It is now a running joke, that drunk-me mostly brings up to get a chuckle, but I’m sure part of drunk-me is still quite serious.
What. A. Nerd.
It could be worse.
You could be a single woman.
Talking about her cat.
For the record. My cat IS AWSOME!
Not as awesome as my dog. We should get drunk and debate it.
I hear that you actually turn to Skype sex, too. Nothing wrong with that.
i’m a big fan of the tag “drunk dials or dunk hookups no thanks i’ll snuggle with my dog.”
Skype sex? I hate to ruin some weird fantasy you have about annoymous bloggers, but none of that here.
Thanks for the compliment on the tag. I enjoy it and hope to use it often.