If something can go wrong, it will

That's the motto of this trip I've taken to Albuquerque. Let's review the happenings of the first 48 hours:

1. Departing Friday, I realized that I was basically jumping head-first into a lion's den, the snake pit, etc. I knew I'd had a growing sense of dread over the last couple of days (whereas before I was mildly excited), but right as the car pulled up to take me to LGA, I got that sick and nervous feeling. I should always trust my instincts.

2. I arrive Friday evening after an eternity of flying and airports, all without wireless internet. LGA's wireless was fucked - and this is NYC, people. LGA is no 2nd rate Sunport. Atlanta also did not have wireless - they had the Shibby/Denver equivalent. I paid $10 for about 3 minutes to check my hotmail and MySpace.

3. On Saturday, I got the intervention. My parents drilled me with where my money is going, how much I'm drinking, if I'm doing drugs, blah blah blah. They told me I wasn't allowed to drink on this vacation here.

4. So I go out Saturday night with the full intention to not drink. Although, I roll up to my friend Ben's house, and he has carbombs waiting for me. I couldn't resist - they're delicious. I founded the ICR, for chrissakes. We down them, we go to Martini Grille where my other friend Mario is working and proceeds to hook up the free drinks. We begin to booze like crazy, and then take off to Ethan's (ex-boyfriend) house. I meet my Best Best, we have good times, and then shit just starts going further down the crapper.

5. Not only did I yell at Ethan, loudly, in public, about all sorts of fucked up issues, I was also told that a certain ex of mine had been cheating on me like crazy when we first were going out. I then decide to sort out issues with another fella, but good Lord, why!?! And later on, I had to sort out issues with a further guy, and then I dragged in another, more long-distant dude. I was off the hook, freaking out. I was force-macked, averted making outs, and rolled home at 7am.

Not kosher with my parents. Also, my fucking dog is all cancered and is dying before our eyes. My parents kept him alive so I could say "Au revoir, mon chien!"

This place is plagued with bad karma! What the shit.

2005-08-29 | 12:27 a.m.

last entry :: next entry
50s people