In quintessential triviality for years in this fleshcase a shesoul dwelt.

i am feeling a bit better. last night i did something
interminably stupid. i don't think that's a word, but i'll go on. so i went to my friend's townhouse for her birthday party. i have one word to say and that's jagermeister. i was drunker than i ever imagined but unfortunately no boys were around, except my friend's boyfriend, and i'm not about to stoop that low. i was feeling pretty amorous until i passed out and woke up with vomit on my face. the last thing i remember is ron burgundy telling brick tamlind that he ripped a man's heart out. i remember eating those chicken nuggets from wendy's and saying, 'man, i'm going be throwing this up later. haha, just kidding.' way to tell my own prophecies.

so after a night of retarded buffoonery, carrie and i travelled to carrie's house because she had work at 10 in the morning. unfortunately, i had work at noon, but i was throwing up every hour, so i called in. i feel terrible about it because i've only been working there a week. but i really was horribly sick. sure, it was my own fault, but now i know better. if i had went to work i would have thrown up on the sales floor. i'm certain.

but we went to carrie's house and as soon as we pull into the driveway her little sister comes out with their shih tzu and starts chattering ceaselessly. my head is pounding and im starting to feel some dry heaves coming on while she chatters away. it's all i can do to get upstairs, wave politely and tell her mother hello before i go to the bathroom and puke in the sink. carrie hastily flicked on the radio in the bathroom so that nelly and kelly rowland's "dilemma" covered the sounds of my retching. then i got in the shower and collapsed in her sister's bed for a while, but not before checking my voicemail. alex had called and told me i called him four times last night and apparently he couldn't understand any of my messages. by then the family and my friend had left. after i woke up with a sudden wondrous sensation to vomit, and rushed to the bathroom, emptied my stomach of its contents, and then tried to flush, the toilet was clogged. okay, no problem. i reach for the plunger and start pumping, trying to unclog it. after a couple plunges, i try to flush the toilet again.

with a scream, water starts gushing over the lid of the top of the toilet like niagara and i dive for the towels under the sink to soak up the torrents of water beginning to flood the bathroom floor. it didn't seem like it would stop and kept surging forth, and i kept throwing more towels on the floor to mop up the growing sea. thankfully, it stopped, but not before the rugs were completely soaked in my vomit water. this was someone else's nice house and i decided i could not just leave the bathroom in the state it was in. a few minutes later i hear the garage door roar open and i go downstairs to greet my friend's parents, who: a) have no idea how hungover i am, b) don't understand why I'm still at their house while they weren't, and c) came home to find their kitchen ceiling dripping with water. I explained what happened ashamedly, gathered my things and went. then i went home and slept for six hours.

i finally drank some water and i was in a writing mood but then my mother came and bitched at me to do something besides the computer. i was going to type something really poetic about the fireflies outside but she insisted i do something more productive, like, for instance, watch "Be Cool" starring John Travolta. i do like that twinkle, twinkle guy though. needless to say, i don't think today was necessarily fit for the production of anything intellectually gratifying. on another note, bob dylan is dark and mystifying. i'm not sleepy, and there is no place i'm going to.

Playing? Bob Dylan. Mr. Tambourine Man.