Diary of a break-up weekend

Friday

4pm: Shitty day of shit ends, BRock is homeward bound
430pm: Stop at apartment of DJ M, guy BRock is currently seeing, all is well in the world of Becca
6pm: Dash from Las Gaygas with Diva and Felony for happy hour and showtunes with the law students in Boystown
8pm: Five dirty martinis later, the crew heads for The Caf and Jasper's "Purim, Good Friday, Katie's 2-year countdown, Full Moon, The National Enquirer is going Glossy" party
~10pm-ish?: After falling off a chair, BRock decides it's time to move on and heads to Wrigleyville, and the forshadowing of a bad news night begins
~1am: Having successfully made a complete ass of herself with the aid of Jameson's and very slippery boots on a wet Chicago sidewalk, BRock then succeeds in pissing off DJ M to the point of no return, and is furthermore irritated to discover that it was totally justified
~4am: BRock concedes defeat, gives up on the night

Saturday

2pm: Rude awakening
6pm: Diva returns home, spends the remainder of the evening assuring his co-dependent roomate that all is for the best
10pm: Thoroughly disgusted with the previous 36 hours, BRock accepts the weekend as a failure and decides against leaving the apartment for any reason ever again

Sunday

130pm: After committing to a third straight day of not following her personal trainer's schedule, BRock drags herself by sheer will out of the apartment and into the car, to begin the 50 mile journey to Mokena in search of the promised land
730pm: Some several glasses of cheap wine, a dozen cigarettes and a CD's worth of wrist slitting songs in the car later, things begin to make sense again in the world of Becca
830pm: While fruitlessly searching for parking in Lincoln Park, there is a DJ M sighting and yours truly is thrown for the proverbial loop. Naught is well in the world of Becca
930pm: The resurrection of Christ was apparently not enough to brighten my mood today. Drowning the weekend's miseries in a bottle of Absolut back in Las Gaygas, perspective is finally reached: A shallow, loveless life really isn't that bad of a prospect, so long as there will be gay men, showtunes, and great bowls of vodka soup to fill the void.

Moral of today's story: Three cheers for alcohol; The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems.