Waking up with a hangover...third day in a row.

Man. This has gotta stop. My hangovers are only separated by more bouts of power drinking where i find myself chugging back the red bull and voddys, making lewd phone calls to people, and trying to not puke.

Last night was even more fugged up than the preceeding nights-- well, i think it was. [my memory is kinda patchy]

So i ended up at Cowboys again...but this time i didnt get ditched by everyone [and no, i havent heard from B Rabbit yet although i have been informed that she and EL ended up going to the Roadhouse on Friday, as i assumed, so they could meet up with their "boys".] Instead, I ended up drinking a bunch of jagermeister [strike one], jack daniels [strike two] and red bull and voddy [strike 3...yer outta there!] and being a typical drunken buffoon.

I was supposed to meet up with the IB [who i somehow have now christened "Mila" ] and sent him a text message...but a weird bermuda triangle like thing occurred to my cell and it simply just stopped working. I knew that he was at the Rose and Crown, so i decided to go there. I got there, and the door was locked [i have realised in the last few hours that its prolly cuz it was upwards of 2 am at this time...] so i just decided to go home.

I got a cab. The dude was acting all weird and asking me questions about whether i was married. I said no, but then managed to work Mila's name into every sentence after that. Then, the cabbie pulled into the back alley, stopped the car, and told me he wanted me to kiss him or he wouldnt let me out... i fucking freaked. He turned around and pulled my shirt up...and i kicked him [a front kick, thank you kickboxing] in the chest. I got out of the cab and was crying. Just so ya know, I called the cab company today and reported him. Im still contemplating calling the cops.

So last night, as i was crying these 2 guys and a girl came around the corner into the alley and asked if i was ok... i said yeah, and told them what happened. They asked if i wanted to call the cops, i said no. Then the one dude said "hey, wanna get stoned?".

So i went into this parking garage with these 3 people i didnt know [although they all introduced themselves and told me what their hopes and dreams were...so then i could say i "knew" them] to get baked. I ended up getting soooooo friggin baked. I was a gong show. I decided to walk home... although i was still a little freaked about the cabbie [and the drug paranoia was kicking in], so i found this big stick and carried it with me. People were actually pulling up next to me as i was walking and were yelling "Hey, nice stick!".

As i approached my place, the munchies set in. So i went to Subway in true shoegazer style to get a sammy. First, they were a little upset about the stick and made me leave it outside. :( Next, they werent too impressed that I ordered a sammy that wasnt on the menu [a BMT...very tasty!] and asked that they put "Every muthafuckin topping on it!!" [and yes, i said this about 5 times to the girl]. But i think the kicker [ of which i was actually ASKED to leave] was that my darling sandwich artist did not like Duran Duran and really truly did not like that i kept singing to her. [ who doesnt like Duran Duran? WTF? Especially 'New Moon on Monday' and 'Rio'?] I wonder if they have security tapes. I wonder if i could get my hands on it... i musta been a sight if i was kicked out of a 24 hr sandwich place.

I got home with my 'muthafuckin sandwich', called Mila to explain what had happened [and apparently, to sing to him], left myself a long dictaphone message about how i was so upset about everyone abandoning me [im a suck... although the funny thing being that i actually wasnt abandoned by Mila, he thought i abandoned him]and then dropped my muthafuckin sandwich on the floor. I guess i thought i was going to puke [maybe scarfing down a footlong sammich oozing with muthafuckin toppings had sumpin to do with it] as i discuss this with some concern on the dictaphone message.

Woke up today, naturally, still drunk. Was able to fix my phone. Had Mila call all concerned that he hadnt heard from me since around 11 pm the night before. And now, blogged it all for my adoring audience. With that, im now going to go clean up the 'muthafuckin toppings' off my floor and lay down. Seriously. No drinking tonite.