The self pity sessions

Dear diary,
I'm going to try to get back to the very meaning of 'journal' and share some of my life with you. Yesterday night we were at a friends house where we got pretty loaded and I ended up vomiting into a flower tub of hers. I didn't tell her yet and I don't think I'm ever going to because I cleaned up that little mess and removed all clues hinting at me. Even if she knew I don't think I had much to lose because I herd the feelings that she doesn't really like me and thinks I'm a big loser. Literally. But I just don't give a fuck like I never really did and what will get me into big trouble one day I suppose. To continue my little story and not end up in memoires full of self-pity and I want to tell you that I was invited to another friends house to watch the Germany - Belgium game tonight but I din't go because I was pretty tired from my puking sessions last night but now I kinda regret it because it's quarter past 2 and I'm not in a sleeping mood at all. There's a variety of fun shit I could be doing like creeping up the fit bird I know from work or watch the DVD screener of You Don't Mess With The Zohan I just downloaded but nothing feels as right as just sitting here browsing through the web listening to slow indie music foonr unknowingly made me listen to like The Decemberists and other nice stuff but I know that this will get me nowhere either.

I hope I didn't bore you too much (if there are any readers after all lol) and I want to say good night to you in case I'll go to sleep any time soon.