I consider this to be a workout for my stomach and liver. The amount of imbibnation (some tense of imbibe I have created just for this post) that may occur this weekend should get me in the proper state of mind for Vegas.
The plan starts off easy enough. Happy hour bar hopping after work. Time to take in some taverns on Kinnickinnic Ave that have recently popped up. That's me, always helping the local community business. Festivities kick off at the Home Bar and head south whenever we feel like moving.
Saturday looks like rain (it better damn well rain!) so I am forced to head out to the Lakefront Brewery for a *ahem* tour. I can handle drinking beer all day as it rains. Later, I may head out to catch a band and drink a bit more.
Sunday should see me down in Chicago at the booze exposition. Pete has tickets to go down to the Windy City for beer, food and whatever the hell happens down there. I have been left out in the past so I do not see how I can miss it.
I think I may need to buy goats on Monday to take care of the field that used to be my lawn.
But it doesn't come without a cost. Somehow, I poked myself in the eye this morning with the shampoo bottle. That isn't a big deal but when you realize a contact lens is now gone, it is. Nothing like getting out of a shower and staring in your eye to see if it has just been dislodged to the side, dripping all over the floor. Wasn't still on my eye ball so I looked around the tub. The drain cover doesn't appear to be big enough for it go down so I check there as well. No lens in site.
So I pull out an old pair I have sitting in my medicine cabinet. I guess it pays to keep things like this. I find a contact that is about 2 years olds. I clean it up, put some solution in and pop it in my eye. Hey, I can see!
But just knowing I lost a contact and have an old one it will bug the shit out of me. I can see very well out of it and it feels fine, but just the thought may drive me mad today.
Happy hour can't come soon enough. But then again, when is that statement every false?