The 21st and life as all my friends have known it for many months

So...after 21 years of envious stares and sobbing meditations in dark corners, my life's arc reaches its zenith. Concurrently, disaster strikes our French law enforcing neighbor. I'll go ahead and proffer my selfish weeks of drunken waste to this particular man as a chance for vicarious experience. Here's to you.

It was pretty week, comparatively. Yes, I got drunk. Yes, I vigorously vomited between two dumpsters in the type of alley constructed for assault. But...I remember it. In the value set we've created for ourselves, where maintenance of a high BAC reigns supreme, I failed. By the way, fuck you guys for that Texas Death Rattle. It felt like the vomit refused to exit my mouth and took a left turn up into the nostrils. Like hellfire that damn Tabasco.

The most pivotal moment, I think, that night was the purchase and consumption of a bratwurst. A new addiction was formed and I got a peek through my Window to Weight Gain. Delicious. As Gizmo counseled in response to the hubris I maintain about my inability to gain weight, "The pounds come in waves," which I consider a warning. He also offered, "You have the rest of your life to be healthy," which I consider encouragement. Like any great figure of wisdom, his insight is always paradoxical and superlative. Here's to this weekend's Triumvirate reunion.