Oatmeal is the Blandest Food I've Ever Eaten

There's something about alcohol that makes me sad. I don't think it's merely the fact that it's a depressant. There have been plenty of times when I've drank and not felt as bad afterwards as I have the past couple times. No, it's the things that happen when I go to parties and everyone is getting drunk. Last week it was certain people not making it to spring formal. Tonight, Friday night, it was someone who drank way too much. Never before have I been around someone who drank so much she passed out. I haven't even been in the same vicinity before. But that changed tonight. One girl at the party on the other side of my floor passed out. She had only six shots. No one seems to know what else was going on with her, but that doesn't seem like much. Well, at least that doesn't seem like much to somewhat experienced drinkers. I'm sure that it would seem like a lot to someone like my HA, who after half a cocktail was about as drunk as I was after three whole drinks. Why can't people go about such things reasonably? Or at least recognize when you've had too much? You definitely know you've had too much when you start puking. But I guess things happened really damned quickly. It was rather scary. She'll probably turn out pretty much okay, othern than having been on a respirator tonight.

Other than that, the party was a lot of fun. There was dancing, and I got to dance with two boys - at the same time no less.

But as it is four in the morning and I'm sobered up by now, I'm going to bed. I have work to do after I get up. And I should call Meg after I get some sleep. So, to sleep I go, maybe even to dream.