Showered, dressed, and checked out of my hotel in fifteen minutes flat . . . Not bad for a guy who can’t remember how he got home last night. That was after turning off my alarm at 6:30 AM and hanging up on the girl who was driving me to class three times. It must have been the Courvosier. We went to Coyote Ugly last night, and after not seeing the movie, the girls there did not disappoint (is that a double negative?). A guy in the group of FMPs I was in called me out because he thought I asked a bartender when she got off.

First of all, who is the dickhead who calls a guy out when he tries to pick up a cute bartender, and second, who still uses lines like “When do you get off?” When she was the only bartender not dancing on the bar (as is common in Coyote Ugly), I asked her when it was her turn to strut her stuff. I was pretty wasted, but not wasted enough to use a line like “When do you get off?” I’m still baffled by this whole ordeal.

In class today, I was completely non-functional, and when I did attempt to participate in my group’s presentation, I completely ruined it. Yesterday, our teacher, Al, listed his “hot buttons” on a PowerPoint slide and they looked something like this:

– Don’t Open With a Joke

– Hard to Read Charts

– Picking Your Nose

– Mouth Breathing

– NO CLOSING SLIDE

– NO CLOSING SLIDE

– NO CLOSING SLIDE

So I took that to mean that he didn’t want a closing slide when he really did; this was all when I was completely sober. The next morning, our group created a presentation and they (I say they because at the time we were making the presentation, I was a puddle) didn’t really put in any semblance of a wrap-up screen. Al asked a question about our apparent lack of this oh-so-critical slide, and I responded, “Yeah, well, we were just trying to stay away from the closing slide you don’t like,” which came across as a joke AND enforced his belief that we didn’t listen to him yesterday . . . And the group ripped me a new one because of it in our breakout session. One of the girls was merciless . . . no tact in her criticism at all, she just let me have it. I guess I set myself up in the tact department dragging my sorry ass into that room half-plastered at 7:30. Sheesh.