Ick.

For any of you who care... or were there...

I'm still hungover from Saturday night. It's 7:21 on Monday night.

There was hotsauce, mustard, turkey, coconut, and two kinds of crackers on my kitchen floor, carefully allayed, when I woke up on Sunday morning, having absolutely no recollection of leaving the White Room and no recollection of going to Vagabond.

I also have no idea how I got home.

But it's nice to hear that I can be blackout drunk and not make a total ass out of myself; I was well behaved.

Cold comfort.

I still want to die.