Deciphering my drunken writing in a notebook from Las Vegas

I am plastered right now.

Darren + open bar = fucked up.

I ate and drank so much that even though it's been 2+ hours since my last drink I'm getting more and more drunk. I'm even slurring words in the notebook I'm writing this in.

I guess it's a sign of recovery when I start hiccupping the words...now they're coming fast and furious.

Anyway: Vegas. Tourists. Fat, lazy American tourists, or so it seems. I tried walking down the strip a little bit today to get a feel for the city, but I just wanted to smack all the fat lazy people standing around gawking at all the blatantly obvious tourist shit. Oh, look! A man-made volcano! Big fucking deal. Same with the pirate ship and the rest of that shit.

And gambling. Fuck!

It's like investing in something with zero percent return. Fucking A! Unless you've developed the poker skills, you're a fucking sucker.

Anyway, I'm really fucked up right now. Concentrating-on-not-puking fucked up. The problem here is that the tap water tastes like chlorinated shit and won't make me feel any better.

Derek and Anoki and I were in some club and I only ordered water and they gave me a $5 bottle! Fuckin' ripoff. Yet, if I [illegible] drinking tap water now I'll be praying to the toilet all night. Now, due to my own self-induced inebriation, I have to stay awake LONGER just to keep the nausea at bay.

Shana tonight took my cell phone and started texting Amber with all sorts of shit that made me look like a lech. I guess she was right; if Amber were really interested, she'd have been at the wax-museum event, and if not who cares how stupid I seem?

I've had bile in my throat at least three times tonight. Hopefully I can hold everything down long enough to go to sleep.