How many times have you seen the following sentence appear in this diary?
Open bars are so bad news.

The answer is a damn lot. And more of these nagging questions about the meaning of life:
When you have no food in your stomach and four drinks in about the span of twenty minutes, just how trashed will you be? And will those trashed effects be immediate so that you stop drinking then, or will they be a little delayed, and will you consume yet more free booze?

Yes, all very important questions. Dara and I got to Phoenix at about nine to maximize the free boozing. Matt, Kevin, and Mark were already there, also knowing how to maximize the free boozing time. And more questions:

Will any of us actually appear in the back pages of that trashy fag rag, HX? Or was all that trying not to blink for about ten photos all for nothing? Will any of us have any shame about appearing in said magazine?

The night is definitly filled more with questions than with answers when I look back on it on this hungover day. Towards the end of the open bar, the female bartender in a packed bar full of trashed people took my drink away from me and came back to give me a bottle of water. I was a little annoyed about that then, but now I appreciate the caring of the gesture, especially since that is the last event of the night that I can clearly remember. I don't remember riding the subway, walking to it, or anything. I just then remember being back in my neighborhood and walking to Metropolitian for some reason with Matt. I honestly have no clue why we went there. To pee? Then I remember falling with Matt, landing on a door, falling through the door, and looking up to see the sky and snow and some alley.

Then Boys Night Out (Kevin, Matt, Mark, and I) trekked to R Bar where you get free drinks for undressing, and please, this should not even be posed as a question, but did I have any compuction about undressing for free booze when I was this drunk? Do I ever have hesitation about removing clothing? And yes, did I really need to drink more? All very pertinent questions. And wait, I am remembering cake now. There was cake for some reason, and I ate a lot of it. Chocolate cake. Why the hell was there cake? There was also some food, a buffet setup in the back that I remember eating from also. I talked to so many random people. About what? Good question. Did I or did I not make out with some cute boy at the front of the bar? I really don't remember. I remember apologizing to some man that Matt was being a dickhead to. I remember the bartender addressing me by my name throughout the night - and I thought it was weird that he remembered what it was.

Then finally walking home to Matt and Kevin's. Talking to Matt about anal sex pretty much the whole way home. Vague memories of trying to get Kevin to make out with me when I went to pee. Him, thankfully, saying no. Why am I so out of control while drunk? And then there was the cause of noticable pain I have been having in my asshole today. Why did I want to try to have anal sex while that drunk? Why did Matt? In what furnace was my brain? There was a condom involved. That's good. No lube though. That's not good. I have never had anal sex, and I think I still might be able to make that claim today, because there was not really that much penetration since my sphincter said no, that this does not fit in here. But that did not prevent fumbling around, mashing ass against dick. And yes, in what furnace was my brain? Why it so fascinating to watch your dick get sucked? What type of fascination is it?

And I slept for a few hours before I was woke up by his heater which is right under his bed, and blew hot gross air all over me so that I could not sleep. I woke up, got dressed, and saw pretty big cuts on Matt's forehead. I do remember him bleeding when we were running around Brooklyn. How did that happen? I asked him this morning. More questions without answers. He didn't know. I kissed him goodbye and came home and slept for a couple hours so that I could go into work today semi-functional. But just how functional will I be? And when will the pain of last night fully hit me? Will my ass hurt all day? Oh, life and its mysteries.