an extra large glass of wine and three cheers to me. i'm pretty sure the bartenders at the Marriott Bar in downtown Raleigh thought I was a prostitute this week. Lezzzbehonest. Who but a prostitute would have a night cap at a hotel bar with a married man (and sometimes multiple married men) for three nights in a row? Plus, if the wave of exhaustion that seemed to come upon me every night once we got to the hotel bar is any indication of what kind of prostitute I would be, then I should probably not ever try my hand at that. I would be the sleepiest prostitute in the world and you definitely would not get your money's worth. So I guess that means I shouldn't try to be a rockstar either. After partying like one all week, I feel insane.
dammit. i suppose I will just keep on being a paralegal.