Saturday, April 5, 2003

susan son-tag you are it

Tonight, I was in an excited mood when I got home from work, the spirits were raised because I was intent on getting smashed and dance dance dancing at the Bens' wall. I took a couple shots of Jager and my body for whatever reasons cannot handle hard liquor at all these days. It can take in insanely harmful amounts of wine or beer without batting an eye, but hard alcohol is a different story all together. It is the story of me starting to gag on my second shot before even swallowing it, and of me running from our kitchen to our toilet hoping to get there in time, of me getting there in time and puking out the pasta salad I had eaten a couple hours earlier into our toilet. It is the story of me blowing chunks so hard that they bounced off the surface of the toilet's water and right into my eyes, my face, my hair. Not a pleasant story.

So nix the getting smashed plans, can still dance the night away. Ha. There was a Pixies song that thrilled me to the bones and the new Missy song, and every song that normally I would have quietly groaned about made me loudly groan since I was already moody from having puked everywhere. So nix that part too. So the new plan for tonight: drink tea, lie in bed, let stomach calm down, read Edmund White, and let the boy love scenes turn me on, do what I will that mental imagery and then let that segue into a good night's sleep.

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