Chapter 2.5: I'm funnier when I'm hungover. So right now, I must be fucking hilarious.

Could you die from a hangover? If that could happen, I'm pretty sure I would be dying right now.


I woke up thinking it was Friday. Like last night didn't happen. Ground hog day. "What are you doing home?" I asked 7 year old Carlos Dragon. "It's Saturday." he replied.
My friend says to me "Your eye doesn't look right."
My eye is purple.

How did this happen? I don't know. It's extremely obvious that I like to party fucking hard.
It could be many things. One of the many spills onto the concrete? If I was a betting man, I'd put my money on that.


Its times like these that I realize that my priorities shouldn't be cute boys in tight pants and partying like a boss, but on other things. Like racism, or stds. (not awareness, I just want to be those things.)


I apologize, but 'Chapter 3: Why cool children put tweezers in the power outlet' will have to wait for another day. Perhaps tomorrow.
Remind me not to drink until I can't feel feelings tonight.

Seacrest out.