That's no hobo, that's just Anna.

Guess what guys?

I have outdone myself yet again in the realm of 'Shit, I really did that.'

Last night roomie and I wandered across the street to the bar as we're known to do to celebrate Thursday, a wonderful day. We insituted our normal 2 drinks only by drink number 3 we had forgotten our rule. So we were drunk. I'm still not sure how in the world I got that way because I was fine and then all of a sudden I was dr-u-nk as Heeeeeeeeeeell.

On a side note I did see coachy type person, the other half of the thing of which I cannot mention, and thank God I was a sane person at that point in time. Let's just hope he never reads my blog. We made plans to see one another later in the weekend. Grin. Aaaaaaand here's the awesome-sauce part: When he came over to talk to me he was, wait for it, agrin. :D Roomie said it was really cute because he kept having to catch himself to stop grinning like a damn fool. If roomie says it was cute then it was really cute because roomie is not the type to like cute things. I didn't notice as I was trying really hard to be a normal person and I was dr-u-nk so I had to concentrate doubly hard. You know, being hungover isn't nearly as bad when you're all atwitter and aflutter. Now, pretend you did not read any of this because it is the thing of which I cannot mention. And I'm sorry for gushing. Kind of.

(One a side, side note: Is too early to break out the Sex-Pie? I made an apple pie tonight for dinner for some friends that came over and I need to make a second one because pie shells come in twos. I know, I know, I just didn't have time to make the crust. So what do you guys think? Too early?)

Then we meet some people that live in our building and we head back across the street and up to the pool to hang out and drink Coors Light. Because that is always a good idea. Putting cheap beer on top of Bombay Sapphire. Yum.

At some point in the evening I realize that it is waaay late and I need to go to bed. So I tell roomie and peoples I'm going downstairs to go bed. Roomie asks if I have my keys. I don't know what I told him but I didn't have them. Why we don't keep our door unlocked I don't rightly know. It's not like he hasn't met me and doesn't know I lose my keys every 20 feet.

Somehow in the time it took me to come down from the pool on the roof to the tenth floor I forget that roomie is upstairs at the pool. I begin to pound on the door and get unnecessarily mad at roomie for not getting up out of bed to come let me in. I knock and pound and cuss and knock and pound and cuss and finally just lay down in the floor in the hall. Classy, I know.

Round about 4 AM roomie wanders down and finds me, collects me and puts me to bed. Thank God he did because I really don't think I'd ever recover from the shame of being found, still drunk mind you, in the hall in the morning by Sex-on-Skates. Just so you're aware there are no homeless people in our building, just drunk people that cannot get in their apartment.