15 June 2002 - 10:01 a.m.

Well. That happened.

I'm sorry to all to whom I left incoherent guestbook messages, with the exception of Potatoelf who left an equally drunk one in mine. Though all is not even steven because, Erin, moving away from RHW is lot harder than someone getting married. It's all good today, I was just having a completely psychotic moment while reading the first page and a half of A Scanner Darkly.

I don't know, okay?

Anyway, at least I didn't throw up on anyone, and even at my absolute drunkest and sickest I don't get that mean, becuase I'm not even that mad that the reverse happened last night. I think it may have been projectile vomit, and I'm actually almost sorry I wasn't facing him while he did it, because I've never seen projectile vomit.

I guess that's about all that's happened since then. For those who missed it, my last entry consisted a lot of whining about Prof. McHotHot's wedding and saying "my life is over" about 15 times, misspelled.

Really, it wasn't even entertaining, and it was far more pathetic than it used to be. For some reason, after a deadly combination of rum and gin, I was convinced that the bond between a researcher and a research assistant was really sacred and really meant something.

Yeah, if you're MARRIED. Or if he's your dad, maybe.

I don't know. But it's McHotHot's wedding day, and I'm feeling fine, even after the disaster that will probably go down in history as Professor McHotHot's bachelor party gone horribly awry.

Then again, it's 10 am, and looks like 10 pm. Knowing the weather is on my side has helpred a lot.

Mazeltov, yinz guys.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: