My Kidneys Hurt.

There is nothing worse than going to bed drunk at 3:30, then having to get up for work at 7:30. Nothing at all.
Last night I met up with Hoboken Girl (I'm bringing the original names back. Sorry if it confuses anyone). We were gonna have a couple of drinks before meeting up with some friends, including my friend of 20(!) years, Jonathan, the latest Texas-transplant. She and I went to a TGI Fridays on the fringe of Times Square. They have really good happy hour specials, what can I say? When we go to places like that, we play this game called "Wisconsin Tourist," where we pose as a couple from Madison, WI. It gives us license to be idiots, and say things like, "Wow, look at the size of that Toys R Us! And where's the...holy crap, it's the Naked Cowboy! Let's get a picture with him! Man, this place is crazy. I could never live here!"
After having four beers for dinner, we went to meet up with everyone at this bar called Lit in the East Village. At this point, I was already a little tipsy. Staying in character for "Wisconsin Tourist," I would occasionally blurt out, "Go Badgers!!" Clearly it was time to slow down, but of course, I didn't. I was explaining to Hoboken Girl that she should come to my friend Joe's wedding this summer. Although, being that I'm realistic/pessimistic/jaded, I qualified the question by adding, "If we're still talking..." Brilliant.
It took a good amount of apologizing, explaining, hemmin' and hawin', and shoulder shrugging about my baffling retardation before she believed that no, I didn't plan on dumping her after three months, which has become my standard.
Lit was fun. We drank and talked and welcomed Jonathan with shots of Jager. Are we seventeen?! Shots of Jager?! Gee, were they out of buttery nipples? God, we're lame.
I hate that you can spend $80 without batting an eyelash on a night out in New York City. In college, we would drink $1 pitchers! That sounds so absurd to me now. I mean, Christ, I would go to the bar with a ten in my pocket!
Anyway, Hoboken Girl was feeling rather frisky, and I wasn't about to stand between a gal and my dinger, so we hopped the first cab back to my apartment. I'll end the story there. It was a damn fun night, but I'm paying for it today.
Hey, no conflict in this posting (except for my idiotic comment). Sorry to disappoint. In fact, I didn't talk to New Girl at all yesterday, and I really could give a crap less. And yes, the Dragonball Z-like marathon of this unfolding saga will eventually have a conclusion. Lord knows when that'll be.