Judgement of the moon and stars and hamburgers

I think I drink simply so I can eat hamburgers. It's really kind of really sad, really, kind of. I ate two hamburgers yesterday night, right after each other, and the sour-cream/ketchup lettuce-thing fell down on my thigh and left an ugly stain.

How decadent. Like really gross hedonism just under the surface, unleashed by the simple cataclysm of alcohol. I like thinking that the traits people present when drunk are just exaggerations of who they are, like when people get violent when drinking, or, like me, really gay and hugging everyone, and, also like me, eat a lot of crap.

I have to seriously go on a diet or something. All that beer, all that crap.

Oh well...