It’s not my fault, i had a press pass.

Last night Katsu and I took some time out of our old-married-couple lifestyle and, eschewing all things domestic and staid, went out for a night on the town. I knew it might make for a rough Friday, but I was ready. I warned my bosses not to expect too much of me, swapped my “work” jeans for my “bar” jeans, and trotted off with my press pass to hear some live music. And to get into clubs for free. Which, let’s face it, is pretty fucking cool.

After dinner we hit Avalon with the intention of catching the first couple songs from Yo La Tengo before heading over to Great Scott to see Peelander-Z, and after which we returned to Landsdowne St. with the intention of catching the LAST couple songs from Yo La Tengo but, finding the show had ended, went to the Baseball Tavern for a nightcap. It was actually pretty early when we left, but katsumi looked beat down and I didn’t feel like going to Cambridge.

I woke up this morning with PILLOW MARKS on my face, I slept so hard last night. Fucking CREASES. I could tell right away that something was amiss, and waking up felt like clawing my way out of ten-foot-deep a mud pit with a spoon between my teeth. I think I fell asleep in the shower. Somehow I managed to cobble together something resembling an “outfit” and, for reasons that escape me, decided to change purses, which, for me, is equal in scope to changing operating sysems on Katsumi’s laptop. Halfway to my car, I realized that I’d taken the wrong set of keys. Then, proper set retrieved, I realized that I’d left my ID, bank card, wallet, and PRESS PASS, along with the cash I need to get through the Sumner-death-trap-tunnel, in the pocket of last night’s jeans. Once I GOT to work, I had to call up THREE TIMES to be buzzed in, as I’d left my passcard in purse #1. It took me an hour to realize I wasn’t wearing any mascara.

And I’m supposed to go to Oktoberfest tonight? puh-lease.

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