My mom is not going to like this one...

So I am wasted. absolutely....the most I've been in a looong time. Why? Well, I needed some release. Not a positive form of said action...here we are. I became inebriated beyond reproach for my travels up the hillery...specific reason... TBA. I will admit at this point and time that I am still far more sober than most of my age and range...I am typing after all and I apologize for any spelling errors that may incur. I destroyed my liver this evening for a reason...revenge. Sounds ridiculous to me even now. I am torn between lying down and getting this the fuck out. I want this fucker destroyed. Wrong? NO. I purposefully made myself a victim this evening to appeal to the sick fuck who should have been available. I mean really...where are you? Do you seriously have better things to do? I planned it. I planned my level of intoxication...as I planned my level of preparedness. The ringing in my ears and the fact that I need to keep one foot on the floor...indicates to me that I am more far gone than I thought. I did indeed meet a man on my travels up the hill with pizza and napkin in hand...not the one I had in mind but he would do in a pinch I figured. I explicitly told him about ten feet away: "I am going to pepper spray you if you don't cross the road right fucking now." He complied. Nice to see all men aren't what I've experienced as of late. You can be subservient for once and scurry 'cross the road in fear of being attacked, maimed, blinded or royally fucked. I expected fully to get drunk tonight and kill someone...or, see previous. Instead i am home, safe and sound...which I am indeed grateful for and yet somehow disappointed. Not about the safe part but I could have done with a little more carnage. Sorry mom...don't worry, but this was my intent. I will sleep soundly until the realization creeps back in. I met a lot of people this night. They were all relatively friendly but not very bright. Do the smart ones not go out and partake in the savage dance of drunken retardation, late night pizza, and spinning rooms with mascara clinging desperately to eye lashes even after you've scrubbed vigorously? Or is it just the ones who engage me? Does being stupid give you more courage? Or are they friendly cuz they don't have anything else to offer. Regardless, I had a pretty good time and realized as a second to my mission of destruction that maybe not all hope is lost. I was quite rude to a few men who thought it would be in their best interest to converse with me in futility. It felt really good. I probably wasn't even rude compared to most standards but it was rude for me. It is not necessary for a lone girl sitting at the bar, obviously not looking remotely friendly to respond to inane and useless questions thrown at her across the surprisingly comfortable wooden oval by drunken forty year olds seeking company and encouragement. They were let known to this fact abruptly. It was pretty fun. Being hated is easy. It takes such little effort to insult other people and keep them moving on to someone who gives a shit. That being said, everyone got home safe and with their eyes, so males may rest with ease...for at least another night. I feel like a super hero: "The Amazing Raging Pink Pepper Sprayer!" Faster than the freaks who stalk and smarter than the ones who don't. My not so veiled attempt at getting some power back. My ego is still awfully pissed at me and needs a little TLC. If getting wasted and fighting nobodies in a bar is going to accomplish that...well, I guess I am like every other scorned chick that ever was. I think for now, I can be ok with that.