Excerpt: so i herd u liek mudkipz (In other words, I have no clue.)

Despite my desperate attempts not to enjoy myself, I settled down. To be truthful, I wasn’t quite sure why I was avoiding being happy, whether it was that simply being happy while leaving Georgia should have been taboo, or that I was leaving my son at home with an unexplained blood bruise, which couldn’t have been one of my more brilliant moments.
But either way, a glass of wine while attempting to play some song or other to the uproarious laughter of the already drunk bandmates led to several exotic beers, and from there to passing out on the couch after a short session of vomiting, which was carefully aimed to the left of the toilet.

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“Oh, god,” I murmured. My head throbbed, and if ever a head throbbed unhappily, it was now. I had never been one for handling alcohol, and it seemed that in the heat of the moment, I must have taken in a great deal more than I normally would have, drunk or not.
I attempted to stand up, and found a cold, wet towel had been helpfully abandoned by the couch, presumably by a previous user. Gratefully, I plastered it on my head. The wobbling didn’t cease completely, but the throbbing was helped. Desperately needing water, I stumbled into another room, and found Peter sitting at the kitchen table, cheerily eating corn flakes and drinking still more booze.