Wanna come drinkin'?
I turn 30 on Friday, November 30th. This means it's my "champagne birthday." It also means I must get stupendously drunk and forget that I'm a year closer to my death. Drink up, assholes!
I'm guessing this get-together will be somewhere on Bayview, south of Eglinton — that is, within stumbling-distance of my apartment. You are invited if you:
- don't drink, but enjoy watching people drink and/or paying for other peoples' drinks
- can read this
- can't read this, but are smart/wily enough to trick someone into reading this to you
- have a pulse
- don't have a pulse, but are confident that paramedics can "zap your ticker" after you finish your beer
- ...okay, fine, the beer after that one
- know me
- don't know me, but are
- a supermodel
- who wants to experience my renowned "nineteen seconds of drunk screwin' and then J passing out" routine
- and won't mind if I call you "Doris" during our vigorous lovemaking, regardless of your actual name