"I feel like a fucking idiot."
"I AM a fucking idiot!"

I'd like to invite you on a little journey called the truth...

I have a class at nine am every monday wednesday friday that, to say the least, I really need to attend because the subject matter is difficult and I don't really understand it. Usually I try hard to make it and even occasionally learn. But today I woke up at 10, drunk as hell, and gave Zak a ride to get his car. Which brings me to the title of this post, waking up drunk is totally sweet.

It really is. I puked last night and I haven't done that in months, but I woke up drunk this morning and right now I'm feeling a bit euphoric. Waking up drunk IS totally sweet. What a wonderful phenomena.

Let's take a little time travel back... back... 10 hours from right now.

( sweet phasers and 80's background music with fade in )

(you can do anything with parentheses these days)

Zak and I decided to go out on the town, but keep it under control. By that, I mean one of us drive home at the end of the evening and neither of us say anything stupid to any girls.
Stupid being:
"I know you a boyfriend, but we really had fun with you tonight."
"Wow, I'd fuck!" (loud as hell across the bar)
"Thanks, hang out."
Great, I forgot that girl actually DID hang out with me last night, way to go me.
(until I got puking drunk)

Anyways, we both drank way too much as if there is some strange black hole vortex thing that as you drink more, strangely pulls you in and forces you to drink even more and pretend like you're and Jet Fighter on leave while the Bosnian peace talks try to work things out. No! I didn't run that one last night. Nice.

Then, you are gone. You are piss-yourself wasted and free to say, think, or do whatever you want. You are stumbling, conversing, dancing, and horny as hell.
You are going to wake up drunk in the morning.
And here's the point of this post. (finally eh?)

Waking up drunk is awesome in itself, but the overall implications of the matter are what make a worthy story. Sure, you wake up and feel all good and drunk, but then you start seeing flashes of the previous night and realize you really did act like a Jet Fighter to get laid. Then depression starts to rear its ugly head.

Good thing you're still drunk.