I was warned about drinking vodka from a plastic bottle. And waking up at 7AM with a headache eating the left side of my brain (won’t miss it. hate math), I was in strong agreement. If you’re not going to drink enough to kill you, it’s really a bad idea.
The marker on my knuckles wore off sometime in the night, and all that remains of Sarah B’s tattoo work if the faded ‘FISH’ on my right hand.
It was a jam packed Friday night beginning with Sushi dinner, a documentary (with surprise Q&A session featuring the most dynamic individual imaginable) and wrapping up with Sarah and Ryan’s birthday shennanigans.
Fine time was had by all. And too much plastic-bottled vodka had by this gal. Nothing that orange gatorade, advil and a bit more sleep couldn’t cure, of course.
Your math skills should be safe as I think they are housed on the right side of your brain. Your blog could suffer with your creative left side being eaten.
Love your site!
Vodka in PLASTIC bottles? I thought that was only for people who had been homeless for about, oh, three years. It goes along with the shopping basket full of plastic bags and old newspapers, trudging up Broadway, not even bothering to look in Zabar’s window. Oh, Fish, we worry some days, we really do.
Man, now you’ll be eating sushi all the time.
Ouch. You have my sympathy.
Pain relievers are tough on an already stressed liver. Try menudo instead. Trust me. I know only three things, but this is one of them.
In the immortal words of Jimmy Buffet:
My head hurts, my feet stink and I don’t love Jesus.
It’s that kind of mornin’,
really was that kind of night.
Tryin’ to tell myself that my
condition is improvin’ and if I don’t
die by Thursday I’ll be roarin’ Friday night.
Good luck to you and the monkey beating on your skull from the inside, Fish!
Better vodka from plastic bottles than tequila from plastic bottles.
no, brian, fish was right in the first place about brain hemispheres: math is left while creative artsy stuff is on the right.
Fish buried the lede. either that, or ya’ll missed the good part. Who’s clothes did you borrow? And for Heaven’s sake, why? Do tell, woman!
Hey, wait, yeah! I walked right by that one. “Borrowed clothes”? I’m VERY frightened now.
Oh, come on… it’s not like they stayed on very long after that anyway…
I cannot describe the solemn pride that was mine when, at his college graduation party, my brother stood up, toasted everyone and said the only thing he really learned in college was something I told him before he went.
“Don’t drink hard liquor out of plastic bottles.”
A bit of a universal lesson, it seems.
what documentary?
Control Room.
“It’s not like they stayed on very long …”
Oh, dear, oh, dear. Fish is all alone in the Big Bad City and needs … needs … uh … guidance? We must all help our little Fish. Hmm…but how?
And no more vodka for you!
Uggggh. Freshman year of college. The smell. Dubra. Popov. Majorska. <shudder>
But what I’m dying to know is, what did Sarah B put on the LEFT hand?