Holy fuckers. Well when I'm right, I'm right. I did the inevitable toilet-huggin this morning...twice. I think my body figures it's never enough to hurl just once but at least 2 times just to get EVERYTHIN out. The lovely remedy of once before goin to bed and once more to get me outta bed at 8:30 am. So I'm feelin like trash and it gets so tired sayin this as many times as I have but...this is really it, havin more than 2 drinks, I'm out. I know I've vowed that a lot but really, I've realized that it's not so much about me feelin like shit but that I'm POISONING my body. I just never put it in that perspective...I'm gonna be really hurtin when I get older if I keep this up. I just can't take alcohol. It's true about not havin the liver enzymes :P Or I'm allergic or whatever. Cuz my BAC for my weight is pretty much anythin more than 2 drinks will do me in. New Yr's will be a decidedly sober one.

I was feelin so crappy and out of it, I slept in til almost 4. Wow. Shy calls me and I'm very not in the mood to talk about her oweing me the trip money cuz I just don't care at that point. I was plannin on loungin around the house for the rest of the day and recovering. L also calls me to go over to G's so I dragged my ass outta bed.

I made pizzas for dinner and I wasn't even gonna be home to eat them cuz I was at G's and I didn't get to really eat anythin at all cuz of my questionable stomach...except for a slice of bread, broth, and some Chookies that L gave me with her Xmas card, haha.

We watched Man On Fire, pretty good.

Oh and the guy from the club...his name's Larry. Of all things. He's from the UK and he's been here a week. He left me a msg in the afternoon...cuz my cell was off...cuz I was still sleepin :P He said he'd call me again later and he did while we were watchin the movie. Meh, didn't feel like pickin up. I don't have any more mins anyway. I'm sure he'll call again sometime cuz I don't have his number. I have call ID and I'm sure it was his but I don't go around callin randoms just to check if whoever called me was who I think it was.

I remember the dance-off circle, not realizin it was past 2 and the bar was closed, and not yellin but loud-talkin to a girl on the street that she should have pants cuz Fish in her ever-present fashion police mode was goin on about how wrong and ridiculous it was to be wearin a skirt with no pantyhose in "the dead of winter".

I still can't believe I took a shot of Jack. That was the nastiest thing I ever poured down my throat. THAT was probably the deal-sealer. Death in a shot glass is what I'd call it, shit.