today, in an effort to assuage my terrible hangover i ended up at Jimmy John's for a sandwich. the thought of preparing my own lunch was just too much to handle in my compromised state. pitiful, i know. the sweet boy taking my order was so friendly and nice, and compliment me (even though i looked like death) and kept saying how much he liked my shirt. it's one of my favorites and it's probably seven or eight years old. i wanted to tell him that i was wearing plaid before the hipsters took over, but my pounding headache kept me fairly quiet.
the moral of this story? sometimes Ethel is irresponsible, and pays for it. just remember to drink water, don't take drugs, and TRUST in the healing properties of a Jimmy John's sub with jalepeno chips and a giant Coca-Cola. it works EVERY TIME.