X reached out yesterday evening to meet up and "have a mature discussion about all this". I told him to go (insert expletive) himself. Clearly I'm still very emotional, so I decided I needed a night out on the town with my two trustworthy friends, vodka and soda. Always available and usually a great time, the only downfall if they ever leave me is fewer calories to burn in the morning.
Four friends and I attempted to catch the infamous Rusty Knot party bus which, like a bad boyfriend, never showed up (can a girl catch a break already?). Improvising, we threw back a few at a local dive and spent the rest of the night dancing away sorrows between Tenjune and Greenhouse. The night got exponentially weirder when I met someone who used to be a DJ at my hometown radio station in Indiana and we spent about 20 minutes singing local radio jingles from 1994. This was my cue to leave and I ended the night (as I discovered this morning) with my clothes strewn about the living room and half a package of cajun turkey missing from the fridge.
Frustrated that X had spoiled my diet so early on, and definitely still feeling the vodka in my system, I forced myself to get up and get back into my productive, proactive, healthy new lifestyle. For breakfast, I had a grapefruit and 20 minutes of toning exercises from last month's Women's Health magazine. I read the news and an enlightening essay on Plato's Forms and am now getting ready for lunch at the new restaurant Tipsy Parson with one of my dearest friends. I am determined to make today a good day.
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