I have been vomiting all day. All fucking day. I ran out of stuff in my stomach on the second barrage, so after a few hours of painful dry heaves, I decided to chug tap water and hurl it back into the toilet in order to puke up something. Whatever the fuck I did to myself, my stomach wanted me to know, in no uncertain and certainly painful terms, not to do it again.
Last night Ian and I were drinking, as is our custom, and we met this dude who was eerily familiar. Every other sentance that came out of his mouth started with, "My girlfriend....." The other half started with "It's like I was telling my girlfriend...." The more he talked about her, the more she sounded like Katie, this girl Ian hooked up with last week, turns out, it was the Katie he spoke of. We talked for about two hours about shit, the whole time knowing that this guy was in for some hurt pretty soon.
The uncomfortable-o-meter hit the red when he told us he wanted to walk home with us, since his house was near ours. He got a ride from Scoty from Scotland, instead.
I kept my mouth shut, for once, I don't know how. It's only a matter of time before Ian and I, well Ian mostly, have our first enemy in Las Vegas.
End Transmission
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