(no subject)

I'm drunk.

Woo boy, am I drunk.

Combine seven disgruntled abortionists (four of which pussed out for parts unknown early in the evening), two boyfriends, 20 margaritas and a metric fucktonne of highly tasty Mexican food.

Wackiness ensues.

What also ensues is a three-hundred dollar tab, one MIA cell phone (mine, might I add), and some mighty feisty shit talking.

Joanna and I shook hands when we discovered that twenty margaritas had been consumed. The two of us were probably the ones who ordered most of them. Amanda helped some, but she switched to dirty martinis and then Victory brand beer (lager? I have no earthly idea).

I'm a bit irritated at being unable to find my cell phone, but it's possible that I left it in my office. That will be found out tomorrow when I drag my sorry ass into work.

(no subject)

Still can't find my cell phone, irritation growing beyond measure.

I called the Mexican place we were at, last night and again today, but they can't find it anywhere. I called Angel at work, who put me on hold and called my cell to see if she could hear it anywhere in our office, but nothing. She also checked around on my desk. I looked in my car last night, but turned up nothing. And I've ripped apart my bag. Still nothing.

The last time I used it was in the afternoon, riding in Amanda's car. So, there is a slim chance it fell out of my bag in her car. I called her up, but got her voice mail.

The only other thing I can think of is that it fell out of my bag in the Engineer's car. And he's not home for me to bug about that.

Other then that, it's completely lost.

grr.