High School Yearbooks + Drunk Chicks = Not Quite So Good

It's 4:41 in the morning.

I am dead. Roomie and I have decided we will go to bed at 5.

I have had beer, some sort of weird cocktail, another weird cooler thing, a ceaser, some vodka, and my first taste of gin. (Yes, I made it to 21 without my first taste of gin. Go me! Pretty sweet ass stuff, yo.)

I can still type English or something that resembles English.
After drinking for like, 12 hours. With people I haven't seen since high school.
This fucking worries me.
Am I learning to drink responsibly? No.
So what the fuck's the deal?

Perhaps I will read this tomorrow and discover that it isn't English at all.
But right now I feel pretty confident.