I am a rock star. Unleashed an attack on my liver last night. I remember being drunk and hanging my leg over the side of a tall building my friends and I snuck on to. I also put my hands over the satellite dish's receiver, assumingly rendering some guests without some video for a couple of seconds.

Paging Dr. Jack Daniels.

I love JD. I drink it on the rocks. I drink it in my socks. I drink it on the floor. I drink it with a whore. I drink it at a party. I drink it with my friend Marty. I drink it at happy hour. I drink it in the shower. I drink it in the... what the fuck am I writing?

Have a wedding to go to tonight. Ninety degrees with a shirt and tie. Fuck. Rafting next weekend. Sweet.

What a weekend. I partied like a rock star. I'm not a rock star. I feel like shit. Having a house cleaner over to my house tomorrow before she goes to my friend Marty's house. Once. that's done, it opens up the way to having a friend over to cook dinner. I'm installing a computer at a friend's house now. I'm emotionally wrecked but glad I'm out of a fucked up situation. This entry makes no sense. Fuck it, it's not for you, it's for me. Good times ahead. Good times indeed.