Well, went to Galveston and hung out with Jaimi for a little while. We didn't talk much because she was about as hung over as I would be later on in the day. Mostly we just watched "Psych" on USA while she attempted to do some work related shit while circumventing the hangover. Anyway, we didn't hang out too long because I had to go and her ex-boyfriend/roommate was gonna be dropping by and no matter how we spin it, her hanging out with me would be awkward. I was tempted to stay just to see what would happen, because quite honestly I need something legitimately exciting to happen before I keel over from a case of repetitive boredom.

Anyfuck, I drive back home. And it seems like everybody decided it was "let's wreck our cars on I45 today!" day because I hit several freeway closures due to accidents on the way back. What's normally a little over an hour long commute turned into a three hour ordeal that made the Lord of the Rings trilogy seem like a quick shit break. So the accumulation of random shit in my life has made me realize, "hey, I need to get out tonight or I'll start searching wikipedia for ways to make explosives out of household chemicals!" because there is no grey area for me, it's either I'm happy or I want to cause some sort of property damage. So I text Tyna aka Boobs McGee to see if she wants to do something, anything really, later that night and she's on like Donkey Kong, because she's cool like that. And I figured, hey, why not take her to the Improv because I know the show's great and being the cheapskate I am, I know I can 2-4-1 the tickets and end up getting a better deal than seeing some shitty movie for more than I'd spend at the club. So we set the shit up and later I get a call from Ashley, who's tipsy like a lamp with a poorly manufactured base and she had planned to go to the Laff Spot that night and wanted to know if I was in. I informed her I had other plans and she and Stephan said they'd meet up with us and make it one huge group. And I'm down for that. More the merrier and so forth and so on.

I get home and start pre-gaming. I experiment with whiskey to see if it'll clear up my sudden onset of clogged sinuses. It doesn't, by the way. And then I start doing skittle shots. Which, if you don't know what that is, just google "skittle vodka" and thank me later. All this leads to making me really fucking sleepy. So I take a nap. And at this point I should mention I'm still dressed with the button up shirt and the sports coat. I look like Dapper fucking Dan and I cuddle up in bed, coat on and all, and pass right the fuck out, leaving an alarm on to wake me when it's time to go. Aside from a few phone calls, I have a pretty fulfilling nap.

So after I collect myself I go and pick up Tyna, who I haven't seen in a while. And we catch up. You know, small talk and banter and what have you. I spend most of my time not trying to look at her boobs, because I'm training myself not to be a fucking pig, but all metaphors aside, I love me some titties. So Ashley and Stephan show up and we head into the showroom and, just like last night, it's a fucking hoot. Everyone has a good time. Even me, but for the first time in my life I have a hangover in the evening. I don't know if I should drink because I figure I'll just get nautious or some shit so I settle for some caffeine and hope things get better. The headache doesn't start until I leave the club and the sound of laughter has subsided and I have the time to really feel the pulsing clusterfuck going on in my cerebellum. I drop off Tyna and head home where I proceed to throw caution to the wind and throw back some more skittle vodka in the hopes that maybe I'll just skip nausea and go right back to buzzed happiness. Which I actually have. And I actually have a gin and juice with me right now (I know, I'm fucking gangsta as shit homie) as I write this. I'm having to retype like every other word because I can't hit the keys for shit right now, and so this is taking longer than I want it to, but fuck it. I'm probably not going to sleep anytime soon because I don't want to wake up all Janis Joplin'd.

Coolest part of the night by far was meeting Brian Posehn. I told him that he was fucking awesome for ripping into a bunch of drunken bachelorette party whores who wouldn't STFU during the show. Yeah, you're getting married. Even your husband-to-be doesn't want to hear you talk, let alone those of us who paid to see a show you dumb fuckin' cunts. Wow, that might be a little harsh. I'm kind of a mean drunk I guess. Fuck it. They deserve it. Whores. WHORES. whores. WhOrEs. wHoReS. Whores with a z.....