Right, kids. After having three donuts for dinner (which makes me both sexy and responsible), zero sleep and one unnecessarily long shower, I'm off out to meet the old Irish boys, and (apparently) a whole boatload of new ones who have just shipped over, and are still on their "KOREA NUMBER ONE RAWR BEER!/Kimchi smells funny and my job is hilarious." kick (as Smalltown has dutifully warned me, possibly in hopes that I won't start the third world war upon discovering this on my own).
Self-restraint is the master of all virtues. And I won't punch anyone in the fucking throat, even if they do ask me what a Korean woman blinking twice means. I also will not consume more than ten beers. Or five. But mostly ten. I also won't wander off on my own to find a roguish, slightly muscular man sipping his beer in the corner alone and brooding to get myself all mixed up with. That will definitely not happen. None of the above will. Because I am on my best behavior. I am not going to wreck the last two and a half months of sobriety because I'm afraid everyone I know will stop speaking to me if I cancel on them one more fucking time.
Oh, I've got a bad feeling about this....