I think the whole thing is best surmised with “I made it home by closing time, filled a 24oz. cup (I’m lying, it’s 30) with 100-proof vodka and cranberry juice. You know, for the urinary tract…and I had a blast.
Unless you break down the per-diem on a basic Netflix subscription, tonight’s fun, at about 20 bucks, cost about $5/hr. That’s a dirt-cheap good time.
No, add the gas. 40 bucks. The 4 energry drinks were 9 bucks, because two of them were double strength and on sale. No…they were 9 bucks because they were 9 bucks. Nothing else factors that.
Gummy Savers: $2.25
Bottle of vodka: $15.99 (Smirnoff 100 proof)
2 little guys of Three Olives, different shitty flavors: 3 bucks.
Tax: not a fucking dime, because I bought it all in Delaware.
In order to rid ourselves of awful assumptions, let’s say that I was then beamed instantly from Delaware to Phoenixville, PA, and that’s where I found out that these little tiny flavored vodkas made my sugar-free energy drinks taste better than anything I’ve ever had.
Lie: actually going to cost me a lot someday, I’m sure.
My intention was to go to the store, get a new kind of soap, a shower poofy thing, some Tylenol Prime Ministers. The problem with this, of course, is that my heart always screams “ADVENTURE!” when I get behind the wheel of my truck, so a ten-minute trip ended up taking 4 hours, criss-crossing 2 states, costing me $90.24 and being wonderful.
I didn’t even get the soap. That’s what I fucking wanted in the first place, and it’s still at the store. I sang karaoke, made some dude laugh for about an hour straight, ate chips with a retarded guy (I don’t know, okay? If I knew, I’d say it, but since I don’t, “retarded” stays.), drove in a big fucking loop and got home by closing time.
I didn’t feel alone being alone tonight, and that’s always good.
I didn’t even get the soap.
