My Gynocologist is Hot and Encourages My Drinking Habits

So after surviving work yesterday, I had a routine check-up at my lady parts doctor. Unfortunately the GHI website "Find a Doctor" feature doesn't have a "disarmingly handsome" search criteria (I would've clicked no thanks), and I ended up with the best looking gynocologist ever. I feel like he's doing me a favor by seeing me, even after I pay my co-pay. I was able to skip the normal bajillion hour waiting time and ended up out 45 minutes earlier than I expected. This threw off my gym schedule, and I certainly wasn't going to spend half an hour wondering around the east 80s with the drunken wannabe Irish polluting the sidewalks. There were party buses parked up and down York Avenue! I thought I was going to break out in hives.

As luck (of the Irish) would have it, my friend was available for a nice, leisurely run in Central Park. We've had an outstanding running date for about six months now, and I was quite excited to finally see her. I ran about four miles (definitely forgot to click start on the Nike+ GPS for the first half mile), and then scurried on home for a shower. Since four miles is pretty much a warm-up for me, I was restless and easily coerced into having a few beers. Remembering Dr. F's parting words ("Now you can go drink green beer!"), I decided I was just following Doctor's orders.

Fast forward to this morning. I woke up in time for work! However, none of my meals were prepared. God bless the Pasta Boat because in 13 minutes I had a serving of gluten-free spaghetti ready to go. So far I'm feeling pretty good, made it to work on time (even after doing dishes!), and I don't think I'm going to throw up on my desk. I think I might've accidentally drank someone's gin and tonic last night instead of my vodka soda, so if that's the case, I'm sure I got mean (violent?), and if I punched you in the face, well I apologize. (But I'm not really sorry.)