I am a little bit hungover. It was worse earlier - but now I've eaten, so it's not so bad. I did a shot at the party last night, just vodka, but I haven't done shots in years. And hung out most of the party with Brian - how strange is life, anyway? I wonder what happened to him to make him hate people so much. Had a good time; the cops came at one point and Brian got kicked out for being loud. I was apparently supposed to be a mature influence, because some one told me that they were disappointed in me cause I wasn't. Of course, that made me (and everyone around me who knew who I was) scream with laughter.

I had a good time even though I hung around with some one who insulted me. I don't know why I hung around with Brian. Maybe because everywhere I went, Brian seemed to follow me. When I told him how he hated me cause he insulted me, he asked me why I thought he kept hanging around me? I didn't have an answer for that one. This whole wu sounds unbelievably sophomoric. Maybe not.

I remember several people asking me at different times how old I was. Why do they care? I guess if I put myself in their shoes, and look at it from that perspective, I would wonder the same thing myself. I am sure I was the oldest person at the party. Most people were 18-25. It was my daughter's party. And her roommates of course.

I wouldn't have stayed so long except she asked me repeatedly to come to the party and kept insisting she really wanted me to. Just like she invites me to go clubbing with her sometimes. Which I do - and it's true, her friends are more fun than most of mine. Why is it when people get old they die while they are still alive? It sucks when it becomes obvious that people care how old you are. That's why I don't like to tell people who I am when I'm with my daughter and her friends at a party or a club. They instantly make assumptions and treat me differently. I don't know what they're thinking; sometimes I want to, sometimes I don't. So I don't say anything to her like, don't tell anyone who I am, because she will, because she thinks I'm so cool. Of course I'm not cool at all. I'm so far from being cool it's a joke. I'm just immature and probably will be for life.

I hate men today, even more than I did yesterday. M. called and I felt obligated to call him back, so I did, but I really didn't want to have contact with him. It seems like all my hate just gets projected onto him. Other men don't know me nearly as well so he feels very threatening - I guess. And I hate his oldness right now. I hate anything old, especially a man. Both chronological and emotional. I hate being 43. I really really do.