God, I'm so fucking hung over

Normally I don't get the hangovers after I drink, but Anson insisted
that I drink hard liquor mixed up with beer last night. I don't know
what it's called when you put a shot of vodka inside a glass of beer,
but that's what we were doing last night. My head, it pounds like a
fierce drum. My toxic brain: it feels sad.

The drive back to PG was uneventful and my new van ran as smooth as a
vulva. So the so called destroyed futon just turned out to be the
back simply pushed out of the socket. Easily fixable.
So our apartment wasn't destoyed. This is a Good Thing.

But there are Bad Things.

Anson and Eric haven't cleaned the place in months (they claim that
they did, but this is debatable). The kitchen is an utter mess.
There's tons of plates piled up and the walls are covered in the thick
grease that one gets when they live with asians and indians. Not
good. What is worse is that water has seeped into the counter and has
warped the linoleum hardcore. Where it should be flush and flat we
have more of a dali-esque look to it. My post beer senses tell me
that the manager will probably have to rip it out and get a new one.
Not good.

on the bright side, at least I can listen to the Pixies as loud as I want. Woo!