Last nights party:

About 20 handles of liquor and 4 kegs, ALL gone by 1am. You know everyone is having fun when that is the case. They had 5 bands play up in a friends loft with a giant over sized twister board and games throughout the night with prizes from Inserection. FUN TIMES!

Today, I realized that when people ask me if I am spawn from the devil I am lying when I say no:
I got throw back into the slumps again, not by the holiday but by the fact that I finally realized that some things I always thought were funny might not be. Apparently, the defense mechanisms are not as loyal as I thought they were. It is a bit wired that I have gone 25 years laughing at the hilarity of certain things and then, when a certain 3 words are said to you, and you have a moment to let them resinate, you realize "HOLY SHIT, THEY ARE RIGHT", and once you realize the words are true, they no longer become funny, and actually incredibly sad. So with this new found self loathing I took myself to Blockbuster to rent Sylvia. I couldn't think of a more screwed up thing to do on valentines day than renting the Sylvia Plath story. I was thinking that surely her story would make me feel better, only when I got there someone had already rented it. WHAT SICK NASTY BASTARD RENTED THAT MOVIE ON VALENTINE'S DAY?