Fuck knows what I've done to myself but it was not a good idea.
Fuck it. I wanted to have a happy fucking new year's.
Our girl stayed out all night. And, dear reader, what I have to say next may be shocking, but it's true.
She fucking danced. For hours.
I'm somewhat determined, at this point, to stay up and watch the sunrise. Someone at the bar said something about white eyebrows if I don't.
All I know is, I'm never answering my phone again. I don't even remember who all I gave the fucking the number to.
Stupid, but happy.
Mike will probably never forgive me. Some time just before two, he left to find a taxi home. I did manage to get a Korean to write his train station down in Korean before he left, though. I hope that counts for something.
It was classic, anyway, out on the dance floor. All the waegookin looking for Koreans, and the Koreans looking for waegookin.
The theme of the night was, "I am sorry. My English not so good." It's okay -- you don't need English to dance. And it was fucking nice to level the playing field for once.
Now I'm going to bed for a very, very long time.