Nick vomited a lot last night. And not just regular vomit, I'm talking crazy, projectile, stand back vomit. Scary. He got home after a long evening of working just wanting to drink. Poor guy, we were stoned out of our minds and his frustration could only be quenched by means of self-punishment.

I guess I fell asleep around 12 and didn't wake up until around 2. I remember him stumbling in, hitting his head really hard and passing out. Then came the vomit, then the ritualistic chanting in tongues. He's lucky Sarah was there, I would have thrown his ass out in the hall. She's a nice person, I am not. I think we need a new carpet now, bastard.