God, I hate vodka. Don't know why I drink the shit. I had four shots of the hundred proof, and it had me sitting outside on our deck talking to myself. Normally I only have two shots, just enough to get a nice happy buzz going. But stupid me thought  "hey, if two does this, I wonder what four will do." Well Self, this is what it does, makes you talk to yourself like your bug fuck crazy. *snort* After the deck episode I came to sleep it off, and four hours later woke with a nasty headache and a churning stomach. It is now three fifty five in the morning. I need to go back to sleep, but I had some pretty funky dreams before, and I really don't want to go back to them. Plus I'm making progress on An Electric Personality, so.... yeah. I posted the first part of Long Live Suburbia at fictionwriters to get soem feed back. I need my ego petted, so getting my writing complemented works.