22 February 2002 - 7:30 p.m.

I apologize for my slightly dry entry earlier today. I was a bit preoccupied with trying to score a ride to get my par-tay supplies. My ride, who was supposed to get in touch with me around 11, had slept through all his classes due to some "non-school-related activities" going on until 5 a.m. in his girlfriend's room. So we ddin't leave until 1:30. That was fine, though, because if someone is giving you a ride somewhere, it is preferable that they've gotten some the night before. They will be much more patient with your indecisive ass while you agonize over what flavor of Pucker to buy, even though they all friggin taste the same.

The ride was doubly cool when I was lamenting over the fact that I just can't buy my friends expensive alcohol anymore. At the last party I had, I had just broken even when the guests broke into the second bottle of Cuervo Especial. Yikes. It was clear that I could not spring for $40 worth of Jose every month, but today I just felt like such an asshole while I was looking at the cheap stuff. I mean, do you KNOW what they name cheap tequila? Tortilla Silver. Tequila Zapata. Do you know what a zapato is? It's a shoe. I cannot serve anything that brings to mind old shoes!

"Unless you have an empty Cuervo bottle laying around," said the ride.

Madre de dios. The ride was coming through for me again. So after hauling over $100 worht of booze and mixers (this is the cheap stuff, mind you) back to my apartment, Gus and I spent a very wicked 15 minutes funnelling Tequila Zapata into two empty bottles of Cuervo. (I had been reluctant to throw them away, simply because I felt that a party in which only a few people had consumed that much alcohol was worth commemorating with a few momentos. Now I see my packrat side can serve a higher purpse.)

When you go to Mexico, they say don't drink the water. Well, when you come to my place, the water's just fine, but please, don't drink the tequila.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: