Objective: Drunken Fun.

I woke up in the middle of the night on sunday with a spillting headache, a dizzy feeing residing in my sinuses and a slightly upset stomach. Yesterday my voice was all scratchy and I sounded a little bit like a 12 year old boy. And I think I've completly lost feeling in the middle toe of my left foot.

All these symptoms can only mean one thing:

I had an awesome fucking time on Saturday night.

I had a good time all weekend long, but first I'll update about saturday, because the scabs on my feet keep reminding me that I went out and danced to eighties music for 3 hours straight, lol.

Saturday night, Alli and I went to Culture Club/Polly Esters. It's an 80's dance club filled to the brim with single women, fat women, women with large breasts, gay men, and some very good looking straight guys, most of whom were delightfully covered by the aformentioned scores of women while on the dance floor.

Alli and I got to the club way early because there were supposedly 2 dollar drinks and beers until ten. She and I both enjoy a good drink... Apperently she and I are considered to be "alchoholics" because we drink more than six drinks a month. Well, okay. I'll agree with that, because I'm pretty sure that all the drinks I had in january cover the first quarter of 2004.

My name is Pam, and I'm a 23 year old who likes to go out to dinner/ bars/ and god forbid, clubs and has more than 6 drinks a month. If that makes me an Alky, then so be it. I don't see anything damaging in my behavior while I'm drunk (I'm me, just amplified... lol) nor do I black out. I think I'm safe drinking and going out.

Okay, when I start coming to work drunk or smell of booze during the day (provided I wasn't at a wedding with open bar), then you guys can send me to meetings. But until drinking fucks up my life, or my friendships, you can be damned sure that I'll be killing some more brain cells and destroying my liver, slowly but surely.

Anyway, saturday.

We go to this club, and it's pretty much empty when we got there. All the booze-hound chicks were there, getting in their first few beverages in before the party really stated- getting nice and toasty. Alli and I did the same. We sat at the bar and talked for a while, and had a toast, and laughed about random shit, and shared drunken teenage stories.

Then we explored a bit, and got more drinks. Danced a bit, and got more drinks. This pattern repeated a few times, and we were pretty damn drunk. The buzz feeling wasn't super-strong all night, because we did a -lot- of dancing, but we had a high level blood in our alchohol systems, let me tell you.

We saw a man with fun multi-colored beads, and asked him for some. You can read Alli's journal for an account of what occured, but let's just say she was pretty fucking drunk, and I didn't get any beads. I was pissed, 'cause the guy said we had to "Earn" his fucking beads, and I was like, "no. Give me beads." Dude says, "It's my birthday," and I gave the lying retort of, "It's my birthday too, motherfucker! Give em up!" I don't think they belived me, so I took out my birth certificate, and said, "look, my birthday was last saturday, gimme some damn beads!"

He refused.

Alli earned some, though. Go her! We were proud of her accomplishment.

Alli and I danced with random men, but mostly with our very fine selves. We're sexy, and the whole world knows it, because alli counted the guys who hit on us, I think it was like seven, and this is considering that there was like a 20:1 straight girl to straight guy ratio.

After dancing, frank was amazing and came to get us. Very awesome. Alli and I were drunk and giggly, and Frank seemed to be entertained by our antics. We went to the diner, and I treated them both to some late-night grub.

Then Frank took alli home, and drove me home, and told me to, "Sleep it off." Lol.

More from me later.

Love and adoraiton,

Pam