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    You rush into the kitchen and grab a dishtowel and throw it on the huge red stain on the carpet.  Tears begin to well up in your eyes as the emotion of the day threatens to seize hold of you.  You fight back the tears as you walk on the wet towel, trying pointlessly to soak up the wine.  You glare at your phone vibrating away on the table.  Your anguish rises up within you as you look at it....the source of your pain.  You pick it up angrily and answer it with a venomous greeting. 


"Dang bitch!  Bad day"  your friend Jen chides in her own compassionate way. 


"Nevermind" you snap "what the fuck do you want?"  


Jen proceeds to tell you about a couple guys she met and how she needs you to be her wingman for the night.  You certainly have nothing keeping you here tonight.  She starts to sell you on the guys she's planning on hooking you up with.  You stop her short, not really caring if the guy is Richard Simmons or Richard Gere, you just need a drink.  Fuck that, you need alot of drinks.  


You sway alchoholically to the bathroom and retouch your hair and makeup.  It doesn't take much because you always think you are better looking than you are under the influence of mass quantities of wine.  You throw on a tight pair of jeans and a hot top and head out the door.  Your head is already swimming and you don't even remember how you got to your destination.  

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