Huntresses, attack now!

This weekend I got rip-roaring drunk accidentally and called some people on the walk home. Hopefully I didn't sound too goofy, but that sangria hit me hard. Almost as hard as Damon's mom kept slapping my chest while she doubled over laughing at my jokes about gay clones.

The rest of the weekend was about movies and naps, for the most part. In The Bedroom, the 2-hour pilot of Buffy, Chinatown, Scratch. Sometimes I would pause the movies, take a nap, then wake up and finish them. The naps came courtesy of Wal-dryl, the walgreens version of benadryl. I was a moron and thought I was depressed or sick because I kept falling asleep various times during the days -- it wasn't until this evening I realized I was taking over-the-counter allergy medication and not prescription, and I'm quite sensitive to antihistamines. My naps led to many bouts of sleep paralysis as well, and numerous missed phones calls. Apologies to Tara, Angelina, Lauren, and other people who don't even read this journal.

Oh! Saturday night I did hang out briefly with Amy and her friend Mike -- we ate at the old standby of Clarke's. I hope they had fun at Spin -- I had fun going to sleep.

That about brings us current. And now for more sleeping.