Even though I managed to get to a good level of stunken drunkery last night, I wasn't able to get any sort of nice, restful sleep. Today is the 24th, not only am I generally sore... But I have the hangover sort of ache starting at the very tips of my toes, and moving upward through every gene on my pasty, white body. Bruce and I, excitedly waiting for Tyler Brown well into the night took shots of vodka and messaged each-other's shoulders with our elbows. When it became clear it was four in the morning and Tyler wasn't showing up, I drunkenly stumbled into the floor... Knocking my 32. Ounce of bud light over, and it's now stained an almost comically-drawn dinosaur shape in front of the trunk we use as a coffee table.
     I can feel a burning sensation on my left breast, and I just recalled that I did actually drop a cigarette down both my hoodie AND my tshirt last night, resulting in small pink burn-marks starting from the base of the neck, down onto my actual tit. Sight.


I have quite a bit to do today before I spend any sort of time with my grandpa/family. I wish I hadn't been so aggressive towards my father for having woken me up this morning, seeing as I initially asked him to.  I'm sure he understands that I haven't quite grown out of my routine of anger after being woken up from adolescence. However, there's never quite enough coffee. There just really, never is.