As in barfed.

The rest of this is raw. As in not edited. Just spewed from my finger timps. , just like the crap I spewed over the raling on the front porch.

The awful taste is still in my mouth. Ick.

I can't type to save a damned thing. I'm so glad I didn't drive home, although I think Mrs is mad that i was so drunk at the pub.

It started out as a simple night out with some friends. Just some pasta food and friendly conversation. Now I have to deal with crap on the side of m poorch, and owho knows what with teh girl child and whatever ramifications with te wife and whomever cooses to be the English monitor for the day.

Nothing bad, but a little reminiscing. Did I spell tht right. Just a little "when I was young" conversation, which I can't recall, other than the topuc.

I hate barfing.

I hate it worse than anything. The irrepressable urge to contract your guts and toss out that well-paid forr dineer.

I;m slouching to the right and can''t hit the keys.

Damn.

My favvoorite drink is the Long Island Iced Tea. I'd rather be in the tropics wher I'd deserve an Iced Drink becasye of the tempearature....

Keys banging together

I better turn in befor eI get in more trouble....