Yesterday as my work was winding down, I was catapulted into a horrible mood that normally would have sent me straight to bed, but I decided to put on my Big Girl Pants and go out with Lindsay at some overpriced fancy restaurant.

A lady from New York tried arranging a wedding for me and her son, who I have never met, who apparently lives in LA and is a doctor. We drank and drank and ate and ate and drank and ate and somehow, in the middle of that, I got irritated again. I wasn't drunk enough, I didn't eat enough, there were the wrong kinds of guys there, I was getting the wrong kind of attention, and I wanted to go home.

Lindsay was hittin' on bros hard, and I made some dumb point about dumb things that don’t matter outside of a dumb conversation with a dumb guy, and it was met with a beat of silence.

During that silence I wondered what would happen if I said, “whatever, if this was the Internet I would have like 5000 people agreeing with me and only two calling me ugly.”

But I didn’t, because I was too busy thinking I could crawl under the bar and hide for the rest of the 45 minutes I spent there, wondering if nobody was talking to me because my face was showing that I would have rather been at home with my mother.