Pity Party Much?

There's a half empty glass of Pinot Grigio sitting in front of me and a cigarette burning in the ashtray.

It is Friday fucking night.

I do not like sitting at home.  Ever.  I've done too much of it in the past to let any opportunity to get loud and rowdy pass me by.  But sometimes the opportunities are just not there.  See, most of my friends are all "settled down" and married and have kids and all that happy horseshit.  Yeah that's not my cup of tea, thanks. 

I guess what I don't get is that we're all fucking young so why shouldn't we be tearing it up as much as possible?  I've got stories of nights with Andy and Tyler where we have had a blast and some of it we might remember, some of it we might not.  (And I've only slept with one of them, never have and never will be in the middle of those two, thank you very much.)  I've woken up mornings wondering whose clothes I was wearing and why there was a naked guy spooning me.  There is a reason we're called the Shit-Show of Wilmington.  We've tried to rehash the night before, wondering if we're still welcome in certain establishments.

It's all in good fun, you see.  We work hard, so we party even harder.