The Underhand

So, Pulp's Karaoke Battle happened. I showed up, realized I was in the middle of a social gathering with my peers, and got super uncomfortable. So I decided to drink until I was cool. I was not successful in this, despite my best effort, but I did however manage to influence the ultimate winner of the karaoke contest, Nate, like some sort of bar Machiavelli.
My diet has been shaky recently, mainly because of the Subway I had last night to soak up the lake of rum I put in my stomach, and today's meal plan of coffee and more coffee. On the plus side, for the next 30 minutes I might just be the most alert person you’ll ever meet.
Exercise-wise I am incredibly frustrated, work is kind of ruining me lately and I’m not sleeping all that well. The one major difference I’m noticing is that instead of being frustrated at myself, I’m just mad about how busy my life is. It’s a liberating feeling, although I might come to miss the motivation that comes from self-loathing.
I am incredibly hungover. Instead of being a productive member of society my day degraded into looking up what “laureate” actually means, and getting into an arguement with my girlfriend’s cat about whether or not screws were food. Neither of us learned anything from the exchange except that I am not at all above arguing with domesticated animals.