fights suck

that's pretty much all i have to say.
but i'm fuming and i'm not going to bed, so where do i run?
to this stupid, fake world.

god damn it.
i did the right thing.
i chose to NOT drive drunk.
and i get my ass chewed for it.
fuck fuck and more fuck.
whatever.
i'm not even mad anymore, but he is, so here i sit.
not daring to go back to bed for fear of starting up the fight again.
don't comment on this, i don't want to hear it.
I'm long since "over" it.
just venting.
drinking water and eating a vitamin.

asked a kid to describe what it's like to be on coke, so i could write about it.
he couldn't.
and i won't try the shit, so i guess i won't be able to write about it.
oh well.
this woman kept calling my friend and I "13"...she looks young, i don't.
the karaoke host dude thought we had trouble getting in because of our age, too.
assumed we weren't really 21.
um...okay.
again, it's her, not me.
she's beautiful, and looks very young.
me--? eh.
i really do know i'm just an average sort of chick--to anyone out there who thinks i'm too full of myself.
i'm really not.
i'm comfortable, that's it.
i don't think i'm better than anyone.
except the people that i am actually better than, of course.
but, like, duh.

wow, who knew?
the drunk rambling ME is about as lame-assed as the sober rambling me.
good times.

i guess it might be safe to head upstairs....
wish me luck.
even though i know that no one will actually read this until long after the dust has settled.

bleh.