Dude... I cannot even begin to describe the many levels of shit I feel right now. Free booze and not enough eating will do that to you. Of course, in my drunken brilliance, believing that a bowl of ravioli at 3 in the morning seemed like the best cure. It. is. not. Not only did I tell myself "Ok... you just have to puke a little bit. Lets walk to the toilet and just spit some out." but I also was able to even embarrass my dog with the explicit conversation that I was having with myself. Needless to say... there was not a little puke. There was not even just a spit. I am pretty sure I evacuated food that I ate last week. I fucking puked an archive of my dietary habits. That is how much I fucking puked. If I was somebody else watching me... I wouldnt have allowed myself to fall asleep due to fears of asphyxiation [Just to clarify as to how cool I am, I didn't have to spell check that word.]. You have no idea how much I am struggling to keep my hands steady. Of course, it is the next day and what do I do? Fucking listen to OK Computer and watch a fucking incredibly ridiculous Grizzly Bear music video. I know they fucking mess with their heads in post-production, but I always just believed them to be robots anyways. Don't take my dreams away.
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