Urine in the snow, Urine on the streets. Urine.

My brain feels like a cold bowl of chicken noodle soup. My body feels like it was shat out of a donkey's ass. I don't remember half the things I did this weekend, all I know is that I think I'm drooling right now. Yeap, just felt some dribble run down my chin. I'm too tired to keep my mouth completely shut and my neck is too tired to hold my head completely upright. Even the bead of saliva was tired, it was dripping down rather apathetically. I'm feeling good though. Just like being spanked by an 85 year old grandma with pruney tits poking out of a black leather bondage suite, this is good pain. The pain of a successful weekend of bodily abuse, all in the name of fun.

First things first, I pissed my name in the snow once again at Big Bear Mountain. The territory is marked, the mountain belongs to me, and if anybody tries to step up i'll make them eat my yellow snow. Right when its fresh and still steaming. Onto the drinking. It was night so we headed from the mountain down to Fullerton where an old buddy of mine was throwing a kickback/party. He had a keg and I had a cup. Now, usually I'm pretty good at knowing when to stop drinking, but last night I guess you could say I was in a bit of an experimental mood. I was trying to play this game with myself, it was called "I Don't Want to See Straight Anymore".

What, were you expecting a story? Sorry, it was the end of the story for me - that's my story. I was done. Out. Fucked up. My eyes were blurred and my words were slurred. I think I had fun, I hope I had fun, but the tree fell in the woods and I wasn't around to hear it. It was the first time I've ever been so drunk, and I managed to keep it all in, thanks to some Chaser pills I bought from Sav-on. THEY WORK!!

Damn was I trashed though. For me, being inebriated is like having an outer body experience in the sense that when I drink, I'm trying to kick Greg out his body because he's always worried about being embarassed, or telling me I shouldn't say this or that. I can remember looking at myself in the mirror and tripping out because it felt like there was nobody inside me, and when I look at other drunk people, I don't see a human. Instead, I see a robot. And they're all inevitably programmed towards party fouls like puking in the tub because the toilet was a hard target, or peeing on the floor because the toilet was a hard target, or passing out on the floor because the couch was too far of a target...

But I'm way tired now, time to hit the sack. Drink up, children.