Macromargaritas and Whatever

So the first short story club meeting went pretty well. Most people there read the story, and we actually discussed it. Then I drank two and a half margaritas and fell out of my chair onto the floor. Chip came and talked a lot about TV and movies and that was fun. Alison made fun of my increasingly true accent repeatedly. I can’t wait until next time. Now I’m at my parents’ (Chip gave me a ride) folding laundry and hoping to sober enough to drive home (which I’m now sober enough to realize requires a ride to my car as well). Also, I heard a British accent on the show Daddy is watching in the next room (I think it was a hobbit from LotR in Lost maybe?) and so was inspired to read “Ulysses” by Tennyson aloud in a British accent, which I know only partly by heart. When drunk, my British accent is right good. Or seems to be anyhow.