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self inflicted pain is the worst kind of pain

On Saturday night I took the opportunity of having two long-lost friends in town to be an excessive freak and drink more booze then I've probably done all together in the last six months combined. And shooters! I never do shooters! Between swigging the red wine, I also indulged in Jaegger (I don't even know how to spell it!) and at least two ounces of the raunchiest tequila I think I've ever had in my life. Even three sheets to the wind I had to stuggle to hold it down. It was an ugly, slurring, stumbling, falling on my ass in the middle of the dance floor kind of drunk. Oh, it was ugly and I am still feeling the pangs even today.

And you know who I blame? The gallery, of course. I've been working so many hours that I was just craving a stupid release. All of my overtime and squinting into this stupid screen resulted in a mass of pent up ugliness that was either to explode on someone in my office or on myself, via alchohol induced vomitting.

Oh lord.