It's the weekend. I don't exercise on the weekend. At least not my normal exercises. I like to think that dancing, walking, and flirting are good cardiovascular activities, so passing out at night before I do my exercising is ok.

On that same note, I now have noticeable biceps. I'm pretty much a stick figure, with a bit of a spare tire around my middle. But now when I flex my arms, my biceps stick out a bunch. I feel rugged.

The costume party last night was a mixed success. I went as a raver. Most people were too drunk or fucked up on other drugs to care. I ate some of an acid cookie, had some sangria, and took a shot of DXM. I had waited, just in case she showed up, but I had pretty much given up on her arrival. So after I took the drugs, she arrived. Dammit. Dressed as a catholic schoolgirl. (Yum!) Anyway, to make a long story short, the sangria disagreed with me drastically, and I ejected it. Twice. Into the toilet. During the first time, I was on the phone with a friend of mine who was trying to make it to the party but had run out of gas. The stress of trying to solve that problem is probably what put me in the bathroom in the first place. I wound up worrying him and just about everyone else that was nearby, and he didn't end up making it to the party.

What's worse is, the catholic schoolgirl gave me a kiss, full on, on the lips, just as she was leaving. I was expecting a hug, and I was so startled that I didn't even react, really. What's more, it turns out that she really does like me, and was worried that I might not like her that way.

So, a minor resolution... It's time to cut back on the drugs a little. Not because I don't like them, or because they're getting in the way of me being fully functional, but because I don't want people worrying about me. No more party drugs. Personal, soul-searching drugs, sure. But no more getting fucked up at parties.

I never liked that much anyway.