Well thankfully I survived the night of drinking with Ronon. I have to thank Mike too, because after looking at my journal I figured out exactly how I ended up in bed. Which I can only assume wasn't the easiest task. So thanks Mike, really I'd say I owe you one, but I am pretty sure you Irish boys don't really need help after a night of drinking.
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Anyone ever tell you that you're a *funny* fuckin' drunk, Addie? 'Cause...damn.
But it's a good thing...promise. Jim's an even funnier drunk. Come to think of it, so am I. I don't usually *remember* when we get drunk together? But there's been actual eyewitness accounts of us stumbling down the street singing off-key Irish folk songs we picked up from the 'rents. Typical Irish drunks.
And hey, if the hangover's really killin' ya? Shot of gin and some seltzer water...silver fizz, my mother called it. Hair of the dog and all that...put you to rights in no time.
Oh, and Jim's due back this afternoon from that offworld assignment, 'less I miss my guess.
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Really, really bad.
Still thanks again Mike. I probably would have passed out on the floor if you hadn't come over.
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And no, there was no floor licking.
At least not *after* I got there. What happened between you and the floor before then? It's between you and the floor.
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Yeah, well the floor isn't talking, and apparently neither am I.
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