Katharine Hubbard
You know that lone person sitting in the corner of the bar drinking by themselves? That’s me; I’m back home for Christmas and not enjoying myself. I hate Christmas and I’m pretty sure this place is the 9th circle of hell. I’m watching the crowd in the bar. I’d call it a dive bar but every bar in this town is a dive. I’m drinking a Martini, flavor – redneck zombie, how fitting. Oh, and chill the goddamn glass! Were these bartenders trained by monkeys? Note to self – start taking shots, the human stupidity will hurt less.
Ah, shit. Someone is walking this way. A guy. Don’t make me throw down fistacuffs, bitch.
“Hay, you’re Alysia, right?” he ask.
Alysia is dead asshole. I’m her doppelganger. “Yeah, and your are?” was my actually response.
“I’m blah blah blah,” he says, “remember that time in high school that we skipped lunch, smoked pot, and hit up McyD’s?”
Yeah, I remember that day. It was called every f’ing day of high school, jackass. You were involved on one occasion and you expect me to remember you? My actual response “Yeah, excuse me please, I need to go to the bathroom” and I walked off. I just saw my friend walk in the door, thank god, I make a beeline towards her.
The guy did bring up a good point. I’m getting kind of drunk. McyD’s is going to sound really good in about 2 hours. We’ll have to find a sober person to make a burger run. Maybe the baby sitter will do it if we tip her extra.
I’ve never been sober while eating at McDonalds. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen a sober person there either.
Damn it. The babysitter is drunk. I guess I’ll just have to wait till the hangover kicks in and I can drive myself. McDonalds is also the perfect cure to a hangover.
