prestently listening to:the tv in the room next to this one

intentions to: SLEEP

soberity level: im far too tired to answer that, thank you.

Thursday night. Chicago. 32*F.

What. The. Fuck.

Well, I guess I was up at 4am. I couldn�t tell you much about the hour. To be perfectly honesty, I hadn�t yet sobered up. I got up, got dressed, apparently got in the car and made it to the terminal where I promptly passed out. Boarded, and passed out till just before we arrived at Cincinnati. Ohio doesn�t look like much from thousands of feet up, or from airport windows. Back up we went after I found the most informational postcard I could find to send to Brandon. 7 hours of travel time later, we start our decent through the clouds to Chicago, Illinois. Holy shit. As a Californian, I now understand the profound atrocity that is not having real seasons to experience at home. And, as a Californian, I now understand how spoiled I really am; furthermore, what a wuss I am. It is fucking cold, friends. And every time I say it out loud, some locals gotta but in and tell me how great the weather is presently.

I remembered why it was I hated Dave. I want to strangle the guy. I call him an a-hole, but he�s not even that, he�s too stoopid to take credit for a name that takes effort to earn.

I can�t wait till I can ditch them and see Linzy. Oh, yes. Party time.

I�m sleepy.

~k