two beers gets me pretty tipsy these days. two weak beers. i get about two good hours of buzz. actually going out with people is going to fuck me up. someone is going to buy me a shot and then i am going to buy them a shot and then i will be standing in the middle of the dance floor with a half-finished pitcher watching the girls around me writhe like mesmerized snakes.
(i had two beers tonight)
within 10 sips i had to poop, so that was cool. can’t complain about that.
this week and probably the next two i have all-day training classes at some place that epic has termed “marketplace.” the big training rooms have pleasant names like “vanilla,” “tarragon,” and “wasabi,” but the rest of the vast, one-story building is composed of cubicle farms. vacant cubicle farms, but still depressing. the movies never demonstrate properly the eerieness of walking along the edge of a vast cubicle field and seeing the edges roll up and down like waves as you move from heel to toe.