I still couldn't believe I fell for his crap. I couldn't believe I hadn't been able to control the urge to destroy him. Because, let me tell you, I had wanted to do more than just punch that piece of scum in the face. And that wasn't like me- I had dealt with manipulative assholes like Tyler many times before (and I had a whole string of exes to show for it), and I had never resorted to violence. I would just shrug and kick them out of my life, moving on to new and better things in the process.

But the one time I lose my shit- and I was paying for that loss of control with a severe lack of employment, complete career upheaval, and a major hangover.

After security escorted me from the premises, along with my box of belongings and Pete the Office Plant (my one true workplace friend), I'd called my best-friend-since-high-school, Penelope Lafferty, and met her at our favorite neighborhood bar.

She'd told her job there was a family emergency and made it in record-time, and then it was "tequila shots 'til you drop" and lights out.

I was waking-up the next morning on my sofa in my underwear and a giant t-shirt, cradling my head in my hands, cursing the day I was born.

We'd stayed out way too late and wound up drinking way too much. It had gotten real wild real fast. We'd started with one margarita each, keeping it civilized. Then we quickly turned to shots. After a few rounds, I finally felt buzzed enough to release all my emotions and wailed, my face plastered against the sticky bar top, all the while Penelope comforted me and ordered more shots. Then she'd ordered a round for everyone in the bar. "Drink up, bitches," she yelled, raising her shot glass over her head. "It's time to celebrate. It ain't everyday you lose your job for punching an asshole!" She held up my arm in victory and the whole bar cheered, saluting me with their free shots. "You go, girl!" a stranger shouted at me.

I can remember slow-dancing with Pen while sobbing into her shoulder. "It's okay," she soothed, tearing up herself. "You just let it out, girl. Let it all out."

We almost started brawling with a stranger when a guy began cat-calling us while we slow danced together. "Yeah!" he yelled with a heavy, drunken slur. "Girl-on-girl is HOT! Now... make-out!"

"Shut the eff up, you pervert!" Penelope screeched, lunging at him. I held her back, losing my balance and bumping into her, nearly making us both fall. That didn't stop Penelope from yelling. "Can't you see she's SUFFERING? She lost her freaking job! She's unemployed, now!" Penelope yanked me to her side, protectively. "What's your name?" she demanded from the drunk man.

"Bob," was the answer.

"Well, BOB," Penelope said, with the flare that only comes from being drunk, pointing at me and nearly jabbing me in the eye. "THIS is my best, best friend and she has had a really rough week. She was thrown out of her job onto the street, her and her friend Pete the plant." Penelope patted my cheek, a little too rough- it would have stung if I could have felt my face- and she held back some tears. "She's one step away from being a hobo! GAWD, Bob! Where's your compassion???"

"Yeah," I sniffed. "You effing pervert, where's your compassion?"

"I'm so sorry," Bob slurred. "I don't have any of that comp-comp... compaseee-on. I don't know what that is right now. All I know is you two," he gave us both a double thumbs-up, "are really, really hot."

Penelope glared at him with bleary eyes. "You're a freaking pervert, Bob, you know that? Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?"

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"Every damn day," he nodded, then turned to a guy sitting beside him. "I live in her basement. She makes me breakfast."

"Ugh," Penelope made a disgusted face before turning her attention back to me.

She slammed my face into her breasts and patted my hair soothingly.

"Pen," I gasped. "I can't breathe. I can't breathe!"

"It's going to be okay," she cried. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna be right here for you for forever. Right here. Forever," she repeated over and over.

The rest of the night was a blur of wildin' and shots.

Now, the sun greeted me cheerfully as I opened one bleary eye, and I immediately regretted all my life choices within the last twenty-four hours. There was a rustling coming from the floor and I heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, gawd."

I peered over the sofa's edge and saw Penelope. She was in her underwear and a tank, sprawled haphazardly on the living room rug. She looked as bad as I felt, and... I think I smelled a hint of vomit, but I couldn't be sure. My senses were bleary and unclear... the tequila still had a strong hold of me.

"Don't ever lose your job again, okay? I don't think I can keep going through this kind of... debauchery. Not anymore. I'm getting too old." She rolled over to her side. "I wasn't made for tequila." She let loose a monstrous belch and groaned. "Yuck. And tequila wasn't made for me."

"That's where you're wrong." I suppressed my own burp and grimaced at the severe aftertaste. "Tequila was made for all," I mumbled, standing on wobbly legs and slowly shuffling to the kitchen. Retrieving two bottles of water, I hobbled back and tossed one at Penelope before flopping back on the sofa like a half-drowned fish.

We sat in silence sipping at the water.

"Did I... lose my pants?" Penelope asked uncertainly.

"No. I distinctly remember you wearing them home... But I don't know where they went after that." I paused. "I don't even know where my pants went."

"We always lose something when we go drinking," Penelope groaned. "We're not in college anymore. We're adults now, we gotta stop losing our pants."

"We can't help but lose our shit when we go drinking," I said. "When we go drink, we go hardcore."

"I'd like to keep my clothes. I don't need to buy new pants every time we go to the bar," Penelope said.

"It's a necessary evil," I countered.

"It's really not. Hey," she asked suddenly. "Did I yell at a guy named Bob?" she wanted to know. The memories were slowly coming back to the surface, pushing through the major hangover we were both suffering. Just wait until she remembered buying everybody shots... that memory was going to be a real doozy.

"You yelled at a lot of guys," I told her. "It's okay, I had your back, though." I held my hand out for a fist bump and she met me halfway, booping knuckles.

"This could be why I don't have any luck getting a boyfriend," she pondered. I didn't deny it. She had a knack for getting trashed and yelling at anything with a penis- including her neighbor's pet cat, Lenny. "I see you," she yelled at Lenny as I dragged her to her apartment. He stared at us from his owner's window, judging us with unblinking eyes. "You think you can just do whatever you want because you're a boy, don't you? Well, you're WRONG- you're wrong!"

Penelope shook her head. "I really need to work on that," she said sadly. "I've just got so many angry feelings when I think about men. They make me so angry. It's because of-" and I cut her off, shushing her quickly.

"Shhh! We do not speak his name," I told her. And we laid there, letting the silence envelope us.

"It's so odd," I mused.

"What's odd?"

"Being here on my couch instead of..." My voice drifted; the words caught hard in my throat.

Penelope lifted her head with a grimace and looked at me with as much sympathy as she could muster amid a major hangover. "Instead of at work?" she finished.

I nodded.

"Well, I'd say it would be odd if it didn't feel odd. How long were you at that job? Three years?"

"Five," I told her drily.

"Jeez-" she broke off and grew silent.

"Yeah," I sighed. "That job was everything to me. I thought I was working toward something. I had goals, a life plan. Senior manager by thirty, VP by thirty-five. You know? But now... it just feels like wasted time." I sipped at my water. "Hey, Penelope?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for getting trashed with me."

She snorted and immediately groaned, pressing her hand against her head. "That's what best friends are for," she told me. "But- I'm so serious- never again. Tequila is most definitely not for all."

I smiled.

Penelope reached up, searching for my hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. I squeezed back and we both laid there, quiet and listless, staring at the ceiling and sipping water until we eventually fell back to sleep.