Since yesterday was my last day of freelance, one of my former co-workers suggested we go out for drinks. Anyone who knows me, knows I am absolutely incapable of turning that down.
Unfortunately before she offered me drinks, I promised the Rican I would cook. For some reason, this promise is always met with great excitement by him. So I was going to have to figure out how to have drinks and produce the pollo. Else I would have to endure a minimum two days of pouting because I had promised Christmas, and then failed to deliver the gifts.
While I was out my phone died. Which cut off my communication with him and my access to a time source. In the midst of scotch and conversation, I forgot my hunger and that it’s best not to deny a Rican his beans n rice. Luckily my drinking companion reminded me I better get home, so I traded having another beer for a trip to the grocery store to buy food.
Feeling nice and sauced up from 2 black labels and 2 beers, I sauntered in our apartment, tossed my computer bag on the floor like it didn’t have a computer in it, and ripped out my (fucking brand new so awesome!) iPod earbuds out of my ears.
“Where have you been? I called you like 4 times. You don’t answer your phone?” he expressed with un-rican like concern.
“Why, what time is it?” I had no idea.
“Almost nine-thirty. I was about to order dinner and call the cops!”
Note, ordering food was first in line. Good to know he has his priorities straight.