the one that he'll ruthlessly smash at the end of another one

Maybe I'll just talk about my pants. Bonnie gave them to me this afternoon while I lied on her bed still too hungover to even attempt to do anything productive as I watched her attempt to unpack her stuff. They are a girl's size 6 and they don't fit her - they are low-rise, so tight and fun - yeah for girls pants.

Yesterday Bonnie and I realized that we have not had a sober night since our stayover in Pennsylvannia nearly two weeks ago, and before that who knows when the last sober night was. All of this is starting to catch up with me, it is no longer all right to get trashed on a Thursday night now that I have three classes on Friday, it is no longer all right because I just feel sluggish during the days, not right, not fully living - my liver "pays dearly for youthful magic moments." And in a short few hours, I will be getting sloshed again since our house is having a "tea party" - a long island iced tea party. If you want to come, you should, we live at 8418 Cypress Circle, right behind Viking. The party is going to start at 11, so come. But after tonight, I am taking a long break from the booze until my body cleanse itself out, until something else does too, something vague.

Things of note from the past few days: the VMA's were totally awesome - we watched them in Tiffany and Andrew's Ramada room, got drunk off of stolen beer, and screamed wildy about Justin Timberlake (who is the coolest pop star around - he so wants to be Michael Jackson - and it actually works for him - he fucking rocks), and motherfucking screamed even more wildly about Guns n' motherfucking Roses.

Sean is weird, too weird. I can sleep with him, but not sleep with him and frankly, I think it is all a little juvenile and am about to say good-bye if he does not quit being so conservative about all the wrong things. Last night, I got far too trashed for my own good, was asked by Drew Geer before I left my house if I was going to go "cruise" people out at the wall. I said no. This morning I realized that I might have been lying when I thought back in retrospect about the events of the night, of trying to get Sean to have sex with me, about running after Adam as soon as Sean was out of sight, smoking pot with him, and then smooching some other boy briefly after Sean went to bed, some boy.

Now I am going to go eat salad and motherfucking shit, I love eating, food in my motherfucking goddamn belly, and cussing, that too is fun. I am tired. I am wearing pants that are too tight. I am going home.