Sunday, September 11, 2005
What Happened?
Seriously...or the way I wrote it the first 13 times...stwouelsy...
Wow. I'm wasted right now. It is SO rare that I actually get good and fucking wasted. Yeah, I'll go out and party it up, but never...and I mean NEVER do I get WASTED. There was actually a moment tonight when I had to take myself aside and chug a glass of water.
This was a very strange night. I really didn't enjoy a lot of it, but I felt like I was doing my best friend a favor by sticking by her side. Was I perfect? No. Did I try my best? Yes.
Is it 4am and time for a possible puke? I hate to admit it, but yes.
God. No, I mean, G-D! I honestly can't remember the last time that I felt this drunk. I am the king of pacing and although I drank at a reasonable rate tonight, I came home and had the spins even before I sat at this computer. I have a vodka/redbull sitting right next to me...but next to that, I have an ice water. Who am I kidding? Sometimes the night gets away from us...and for once, it got away from me.
Wow. Is this what it feels like to be trashed? It's been a long time...
This is how shocking it is to me...I can still type (anal retentively) even when I'm in the can. That's why it's so shocking...I don't get wasted. It's just not in my world. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz whatever...I'm boring myself even.
Tomorrow is Sunday and usually I go out on Fridays so that I have two days to recup. But this time...saturday, with one day to get back on my feet and a new week starts. Honestly, my life is fucking snoresville. OH YAY! I get to be an office manager AGAIN on Monday. OMG. YAY. MY dreams...fulfilled.
It's fine. I'm only 28 and I have the world ahead of me. PTH. HAHAHAHAHAHA
I gotta say....none of this makes sense...but it's nice to actually type something in this journal, where I don't give a shit either way. I type...you read. I jerk off. What else is there?
Sorry this journal sucks.
But actually, not sorry. Cuz my therapist says not to be sorry.
So judge away.
Whoa. I'm really done and I'm turning into that old drunk guy at the party that's like "FUCK YOU" for no reason. And then everyone looks at that guy and raises and eyebrow and you're so happy that you're not that guy.
Me either.
Now I judge you, instead of me.
(fart)
Seriously...or the way I wrote it the first 13 times...stwouelsy...
Wow. I'm wasted right now. It is SO rare that I actually get good and fucking wasted. Yeah, I'll go out and party it up, but never...and I mean NEVER do I get WASTED. There was actually a moment tonight when I had to take myself aside and chug a glass of water.
This was a very strange night. I really didn't enjoy a lot of it, but I felt like I was doing my best friend a favor by sticking by her side. Was I perfect? No. Did I try my best? Yes.
Is it 4am and time for a possible puke? I hate to admit it, but yes.
God. No, I mean, G-D! I honestly can't remember the last time that I felt this drunk. I am the king of pacing and although I drank at a reasonable rate tonight, I came home and had the spins even before I sat at this computer. I have a vodka/redbull sitting right next to me...but next to that, I have an ice water. Who am I kidding? Sometimes the night gets away from us...and for once, it got away from me.
Wow. Is this what it feels like to be trashed? It's been a long time...
This is how shocking it is to me...I can still type (anal retentively) even when I'm in the can. That's why it's so shocking...I don't get wasted. It's just not in my world. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz whatever...I'm boring myself even.
Tomorrow is Sunday and usually I go out on Fridays so that I have two days to recup. But this time...saturday, with one day to get back on my feet and a new week starts. Honestly, my life is fucking snoresville. OH YAY! I get to be an office manager AGAIN on Monday. OMG. YAY. MY dreams...fulfilled.
It's fine. I'm only 28 and I have the world ahead of me. PTH. HAHAHAHAHAHA
I gotta say....none of this makes sense...but it's nice to actually type something in this journal, where I don't give a shit either way. I type...you read. I jerk off. What else is there?
Sorry this journal sucks.
But actually, not sorry. Cuz my therapist says not to be sorry.
So judge away.
Whoa. I'm really done and I'm turning into that old drunk guy at the party that's like "FUCK YOU" for no reason. And then everyone looks at that guy and raises and eyebrow and you're so happy that you're not that guy.
Me either.
Now I judge you, instead of me.
(fart)
