Hot People Remember the Important Things

Ok - so I may have to take something back I said in my last post. I've had some fun in New Brunswick.

But here's the thing - I have the capacity to drink like a sailor. This does not mean that I drink like a sailor every day (because I do not). Nor does it mean that I should exercise that capacity every time the opportunity presents itself (although I do perhaps a little too frequently). It's amazing, though, what a little liquid courage will do for you (or in Saturday's case, at least a bottle and a half of wine's worth).

As we all know, I have issues with meeting people. When sober, the idea is enough to make me stay home and watch chick flicks. However, recent reports suggest that drunk Miss T was dancing up a storm with half of everyone at Le Club (I'm being French again...can you tell?). Obviously, meeting people was not an issue for me last Saturday. Some girls from work that we happened to meet there even commented on it. They suggested they didn't know I had it in me. I didn't know I did either. In fact, I didn't know I had it in me until my roommate informed me sometime midway through Sunday afternoon (post-four hour nap).

It is very important to note, though, that I distinctly remember most things about the night - the IMPORTANT things, I should say. I have no idea how we got from my roommate's sister's hotel room to the bar, but I definitely remember dancing with this man.

I have no idea when or why we left this bar to go to another bar (actually I do - it had to do with a med student my roommate met and wanted to introduce to her sister), but this remedy to a garden-variety high heel problem (see, I'm not the only one who can't hack it!) was imprinted in my memory long before I turned on my camera midway through breakfast as a means of not falling asleep in my Banana Blast pancakes.

I do not remember that the band was awful, but I do remember that some creepo followed us from the second bar back to the first in the hopes of winning the affections of one of the twins..."whichever one was single". Charmant. Good hair, though.

And I do not remember how long it was between when I wedged myself between two men at the bar (very proud of myself for this courageous move) in an effort to make new friends, and when one of them found me on the dance floor. But I do remember that I felt pretty effing awesome to know that he was looking for me, and I felt really retarded every time I asked him what he did for a living...I think by the end of the night we had reached a total of seven times.
Do you think it affects my chances at a coffee date later? Hope not.

***Also Happy Birthday to my cousin, who may not be reading this, but turns 19 today and gets to enjoy all that night life has to offer.