shady aftermath

You ever seen pictures of warzones on TV or a magazine?
You ever seen those movies with crazy-ass american college parties?
Well, if you have, combining the two gives you a decent idea of my morning. Add a splitting headache, cotton mouth, a swolen wrist (I have no idea where that come from) and a feeling that I'd rather be dead than deal with anything right now.
Dissapointment, sure.
Maybe I overdid it a bit too much. I'm used to overdoing it, but this was some other world shit. I always think I'm untouchable. And the one thing that any drunken person cannot do is say "no mas". Maybe I drink too much because I never get the girl. Or maybe I never get the girl because I drink too much. Who knows? Fuck it... Who CARES? All I want now is a litre of coffee, and IV water. Watch two hours of Chappelle Show and pass the fuck out until summer. Summer 2020.
My utopia is to have people come in, dance, drink, kiss, break up, make up, make love, all the expectations from a party without the damages. Without the aftermath of having to put a 3 roomer back together from pieces. Alone. I love parties. Parties are my life, and I'm the life of a party. People simply seem to become beasts... worse, animals would have some logic. Rhyno's eat overripened fruit to get wasted, and then they just pass out peacefully. They don't go fucking up the forest, breaking shit, puking all over the goddamn place.
A word on the effects of alcohol. Very interesting I find the fact that for the first three, four hours max you want to be free, to have no strings attached fun, to hit and run. After that comes the inevitable melancholy and apathy. You liver starts screaming, fuck you, I'm tired of this!! Give me a break!! Even killers get a one hour break a day. I bet if I killed your ass you'd stop drinking! And then, the inevitable hangover, where all you want in terms of socialization is someone with which you can simply curl up, happy, safe, in love. You feel like shit. I feel like shit. I don't know if it's the same for everyone else, but all other hungover people look as bad as I feel.
Well, it's about that time where I gotta get back to work. Already got 8 full trash bags. Goddamn, at least I can be proud. I still have the best party in town.
Oh, and if you're wondering why I'm taking it this lightly, it's because there's a very very small difference between a smile and tears.