Meesa and Leglin's secret pi

moshing kiwis
Ad 0:
2003-05-28 16:55:35 (UTC)

brownies and stomach acid...don't ralph on me

hang-overs are not fun. i had forgotten that since i had
been sober for 3 and a half months, i had also forgotten
that we had school today after the whiskey had gone down. i
don't think branflakes should drink again, he's not cool
when he's drunk, he starts talking about liking me more
than a friend, not to mention we were up for majority of
the night because we thought he had alchohol poisoning, we
were pretty close to driving him into the hospital to pump
his stomach. yuck, he threw up all over leesa's bed,
brownies and stomach acid....looks like runny shite all
over the pillows and blankets and's enough to
make me feel like ralphing too...not that i don't already,
but i honestly watched my intake, nothing embarassing
happened to me. i may not be a good kid, but im better than
i was before, this isn't a regular, every-day thing for me,
remember? i mean, i stayed away from parties and drinking
for 3 months, but i would have prefered a few beers rather
than drinking straight alcohal.
i'm a bit disappointed that i can't drink vodka with
enjoyment like i used to, it was my second favorite, after
white russian rum of course, i drank it like water, it was
so good. but the last time i drank vodka, i had half a 2-
6er in 5 minutes and chased it with two coolers, i was
really smashed out of my mind, so i suppose it's not so
surprising that i can't throw back a shot of it without
cringing. i can't drink vodka, dad can't drink whiskey and
j.b can't drink tequilla. i think i'd rather drink straight
gin than straight vodka...gin tastes like terpantine
probably would, like drink fingernail polish remover, i
feel like i should say "mmmmm...acetone...goody, if i've
got any plastic in my stomach that shouldn't be there, this
will melt it and do the trick...yummy" when i drink gin.
but it's become even worse to even sip vodka.
branflakes is conked out on his back, sleeping. i'd like
to sleep off this hangover too, but leesa's mom's still
home and she'll hear me walk to my room, the floor squeaks,
she'd still hear it even if it's upstairs and she's down
stairs. i hope we weren't too loud lastnight for her to
know we weren't perfectly, innocently sober, i bumped into
leesa's mini fridge and branflakes crashed into the coffee
table on the way to the bathroom to pee sitting down.
actually, it was pretty funny seeing him sitting there on
the toilet in the dark (me and leesa really didn't want to
see, we could see the shape of him though) and asking him
if he was done and all, and he didn't know. he doesn't
remember much, i know what it's like waking up in someone
else's bed, looking at the things around the room which are
noticably placed there by a member of the opposite sex and
feeling like you're going to die while thinking, "oh my
fucking gods! how did i get the fuck here?!?!? what did i
do in this bed?!?!?!?!? please don't let me be a parent in
9 months, please! please! please!" you try and go over
everything in your head and it's all a blank, one big
scary, fucking blank. those are the moments you pray you're
still a virgin, but you don't have the slightest memory.
i'm glad i remember everything that happened lastnight, i
know none of us did anything we'd regret...well, except know what i mean though, we all woke up
my only worries revolve around leesa's mom finding us in
leesa's room. leesa's at school, she had to drive her
brother chris in. i told her i'd phone when her mom left.
i'd almost risk tip-toing over to the closet to hide in
case she does come in. i'd love to have a shower, go a head
and think im crazy for day-dreaming about it, you don't
know how germ-infestedly, sickeningly smelly it is in here,
puke practically everywhere, don't even dare to put your
hands anywhere near your face, for all you know they could
be coated in puke gunge after having to take care of bran
all night. praying praying praying she wont hear, she wont
wonder, she wont feel the urge to investigate, she wont
come up here where all hell looks like it's broken out and
im sitting in the middle of it. pray pray praying that
branflakes wont move or speak or hurl or atract any sort of
attention to this room. pray pray praying that jenny will
leave now now now now NOW! praying for the sound of the car
starting up, praying for the sound of her car door closing,
praying for the reassurance of car tires rolling away to
work, but jenny controls everything, we cant make her leave
all we can do is wait in silence for her departure,
listening, fearing, wondering, praying to anything that
will listen and do as my heart and mind is screaming.
i read the movie stubs on the wall around me: don't say
a word, panic room, scary movie 2, serendipity, queen of
the damned, return to neverland...they all seem like omens
of ill-fortune, hinting at jenny discovering us, trapping
us, dooming us. if the walls really "have ears" can they
also see and speak and tell jenny? if only, if only, if
only......only it wont save us...that's the problem.