Anyhoo, it felt like an Ammaretto night, but the first two women who came up to the bar proceeded to order Apple Martinis, and I could see the whole night flash before my eyes. So I changed the special to Appletinis (Lord, did I ever think this word would enter my vocabulary?). And the shaking began. Can someone please fly out and document this portion of reality where Kj serves Appletinis to middle aged Sorority sisters? I just need proof that this is actually my life.
SIX hours later, I stood waiting for my bus on the corner of Queen Anne and Mercer, cold, tired and feeling very foggy; sensitive to loud noises and bright lights. Woke up the same way. Is this what a hangover feels like?
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