In a move many are calling “Jesus, Cassie” and “good Christ, again?!” the drunk version of yourself announced tonight at 1:15 AM that it had developed an incredible, very good, previously unthought-of great idea for you to do.
“Honestly I always do the thing I’m supposed to, like, I never do something for me,” your drunk self slurred, to a crowd of less-drunk friends. “I have no idea why I didn’t think of this before. I deserve this.”
It was unclear which part of the idea your drunk self was referring to in this instance: taking off your heels, playing darts barefoot, ordering a third round of reposado shots, giving your number to the old man wearing a captain’s hat at the end of the bar, making out with your best friend from childhood in the bathroom, trying to stand up while peeing, emailing your boss his horoscope with the subject line “SO ACCURATE”, calling an Uber to take you to your ex’s place to propose to him, banging on the door for 20 minutes, trying to steal back the potted plant you gave him from his stoop, calling your psychic for a phone session where she tells you you’ll marry a younger man, texting your intern from work who lives near here that you think you might be soulmates, getting another Uber to take you to his place, telling him to come outside, calling him an uptight asshole when he says no, telling the driver to take you to the ocean so you can drown your emotional wounds, going skinny dipping in your clothes at night alone while drunk, not taking your phone out of your pocket before skinny dipping in your clothes at night alone while drunk, or getting a tattoo that says “TATTOO”. But one thing is clear: your drunk self is thrilled with its own ingenuity, vision, and drive.
“Honestly, literally no idea why I didn’t do this before.”
Your hungover self declined to comment.
