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Brent
Bettina
Liz
Kerry
Isaac
Johnny

Monday, Nov. 10, 2003 - 4:05 p.m.

Yuck: Saturday night I barfed. That hasnít happened in a long time. It may have been because people bought me shots: I generally stick to the one-night, one-drink-variety method, and I avoid all things sweetÖbut because it was my second birthday of the year, at least three sticky shots were pushed in my direction. Those, on top of several pints of Bass, did bad things to me. But I didnít really have that much to drink, and I was consciously going slowly because I had to play, so I donít know how I got to the point of barfing. L suggests it was because Iíd eaten dinner early and hadnít been able to eat much Ė that pre-stage nervousness always messes with my stomach a bit. At any rate, I didnít like it. The last time I barfed from drinking was a few years ago, riding back from Charleston with some people Iíd just met Ė that was awesome. Some of them still talk to me.

Otherwise, the night was wonderful. It was raining lightly all through the evening, and we stood in the rain and watched the band. Also, the local snowboard shop was having a party, and it was like being back in Colorado again, with boys in stocking caps and hoodies mooning each other and making fun of the people watching football. I got up and played bass on a few songs, the singer hanging around my neck and knocking my glasses off as I awkwardly stretched my hand around the unfamiliar bass neck. It was fun. Later I broke the frame of my glasses and shoved them in my back pocket for the rest of the night. Maybe thatís why I got sick.

L got up to leave as soon as he saw I was in bad shape, brought some water for me to drink in the car, didnít make fun of me for riding the whole way home with my head between my legs, removed my boots and socks as I barfed in his toilet, let me sleep in, made me eggs and toast for breakfast, and let me play on his computer all morning. He is my hero.

Today brought nothing worth repeating. I'll do better tomorrow.

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