Leah and I met this kid named [An]Drew (?) at [Fratboy's Paradise] Kilroy’s on Monday.  Cute kid.  (All Drews are.  You give me ten Drews, and I’d bet good money that eight are considerably attractive.)

I ran into said Drew again at Bluebird on Wednesday.  Hanging out at the bar, we shot the shit, and by “shit” I mean, topics I don’t really remember, until he asked,

“So, how long have you been working there?”

Did I tell him I worked at WTTS? Best Buy? No, I did not.  What the hell is he talking about? Confused, I answered the best I could, for both jobs.

“Um… months….”

So articulate. Looking slightly embarrassed, he offered me a shot.

“This is probably against SRSC Policy, right? Against some employee health standard?”

It hit me:  He thinks I’m someone else. Drew, apparently, thought I was some girl who works at the SRSC. So I did what any respectable girl in this situation would do…

“FUCK THE SRSC!” I take the fucking shot.

For the next twenty minutes I was___________, some girl Drew thought he knew who worked at the student rec center.  This included two shots of really good tequila and some other novelty shot with rumplemintz (which always reminds me of Jeezikah’s boyfriend Chris).

BONUS: I met the owner of LA CHARREADA, my absolute FAVORITE mexican joint (second only to Little Mexico in Grand Rapids, for sentimental reasons).  Apparently, his wife just had a baby –his advice to me and Drew?

“I want…I want that everyone has babies.  You two, pretty babies.”

Seconds later, Drew invited me over to his apartment to watch movies (!).

“Actually, I uh…I…”

“You gotta go?”

“Yeah.”

On the walk home I met back up with Seth and Adam and stole a towel off of someone’s porch. (It has cats on it!) Smoked with Seth, watched some Family Guy, woke up on my bedroom floor.

If this doesn’t send me to hell in a handbasket*, I don’t know what will.

* Old-school phrase courtesy of Grandma.