2002-05-23 || 9:10 a.m.

|| organ failure ||

so last night? i went to club mallard? with my sweet friend brian? and we had wondrous talks under the heat lamps. and checked out this one hot-t-t striped boy (until b did some snooping and found out he is a sloppy drunk, he the striped dreamboat, not the brian dreamboat) (and sloppy in a none too pleasant way. sloppy in a pronouncing cocky statements very loudly way.). and drank. a lot. until i had to say 'brian? can we go home? i do not trust my body right now.' and brian said 'it's all about the good magic, not the bad magic. imagine your stomach and nervous systems bathed in the good magic.' and i said 'you know the sacred heart? with all the fire and thorns? that's my stomach right now, and it's not too cool.'

and so we hobbled back to my street? and parted ways, b for his cheese naan at cafe raj and i for my batcave.

alcohol is a terrible thing to put in your body. so bloody awful. i felt like i could breathe fire. and when i closed my eyes i kept thinking of the boardwalk in santa cruz. and not in the nice way. in the please let me get off this ride how can centrifugal force possibly be entertaining and why does everything smell like beer and sweat and why are my feet all dirty and ew what are those people doing in those bushes type way.

and i totally barfed.

on a wednesday night. on a school night. from 2.5 granted very large potent drinks.

and really. i never do that sort of thing. i mean. i break loose. i boogie. but i do not give up the contents of my stomach without quite a tussle.

tussle?

and now i am at work and i dressed up extra nice to disguise the wrath of the sacred stomach, all aflame and thorny.

and i think i might barf again.

which would mean a one-way ticket to shipmates and rendez-view at home undercovers, which would totally be worth it.

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