Tossed back one too many last night, I think. Nate & I watched Wonder Boys — he had never seen it, and I love that movie (“Vernon, go home to your mother!” “Why is he calling you Vernon?”). And we started to watch Old School but we got distracted by I Love the 80s Strikes Back on VH-1. It was 1982 — the recap of Wrath of Khan alone is worth the entire episode.

Oh yeah, and I invented a new cocktail last night:
* 1/3 Orange Stoli
* 1/3 Orange Bacardi
* 1/3 Orange Juice
* Splash of sweet & sour just for taste

It’s surprisingly delicious — the orange flavoring in the liquor really makes it taste like there’s almost no booze in it at all. Which is, naturally, what will get you in trouble. I made Nate barf — I swear it was not my intention, but I do feel a little bit special about it since he’s never gotten tanked to the point of yacking before. We kissed a little right before that. I’m hoping that’s not what induced the vomiting.

So sometime around 3 a.m., I left Nate on his bathroom floor — I felt pretty guilty about that, but I brought him a bowl and asked him to go lie down in his bed, and he wouldn’t. And you can’t really argue with a guy who’s a foot taller than you. So I started to leave, but his cat Spike made it out the front door ahead of me, and he’s supposed to be an indoor kitty, so I spent several minutes chasing him through the parking lot before I was able to retrieve him, toss him back inside Nate’s apartment, and leave. I walked the 1/2 mile back to my place, and I realized that even though I live in one of the safest neighborhoods in the Seattle area, my street is very dark at night and a little creepy. Then I finally make it to my apartment, and there’s a downhill slope right as you enter the parking lot, which would be where I slipped & fell. Skinned my knee (it’s also swollen & bruised at this point), and tore a hole in my jeans in the process. I repeated lots of bad words over & over as kind of a mantra while I hobbled to my front door. I’m actually more pissed about the jeans than the skinned knee. They were really comfy, dammit.

Anyway, I’m off to get something disgustingly greasy for brunch.