week of sand, fun, and (naturally) alcohol. When my Brother came into
town this weekend with his girlfriend and their friend, they posed the
idea of spending a day in New Orleans. I suggested that we instead
get a hotel room, and spend a night.
So we did.
We got into the city around 8pm, checked in, and then started walking
over to Bourbon Street. First order of Business: Hand Grenades all
around (remember when I said I wouldn't drink one again? I lied).
After two rounds of Hand Granades, we are all feeling pretty good, and
danced away the rest of the night. Around 12, Brett and I realized,
we were too tired to go on, and left the younger half of the group to
head back to the hotel.
All day Sunday it was like a game show called "Rachel's body makes
strange noises, and she doesn't know what that pop was! Care to
guess?" I'm still feeling the effects of sugary liquor and doing the
Solja Boy Tell 'em dance.
When did I get so old? I remember going out with Amber and drinking
so much that she puked in her mom's bathtub. We woke up the next
morning feeling downright chipper. Now I wake up and go "oh shit, did
I get hit by a bus? And who turned on the fucking sun?" What
happened to me?
In other news, I'm starting to diet again. Yes, again.
Starting today. My new diet is called "Don't stop at McDonalds in the
morning, or Taco Bell at night you dummy" I looked at where my
calories are coming from, and a lot of it is that I'm in a rush in the
mornings, and stop for an egg and cheese biscuit, then I don't eat a
big enough lunch, get hungry at work, and get Taco Bell on the way
home, but then still eat a dinner once I get home. It's too many
extra calories, and I don't need em.
Well, I suppose I should get to work. The plant isn't going to engineer itself.
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