Yesterday was not about beer, though there was a lot of beer consumed.

Yesterday was not about sleep deprivation, though I went about 30 hours without sleep.

Yesterday was not about Las Vegas, though I'm here.

Yesterday was about the fact that I couldn't stop laughing.

This is a new kind of insanity for me. My mood became so much better than it'd been for the past couple of weeks that the whole evening and night was like an extended emotional orgasm or something. I didn't want to go to sleep because I was afraid that the reality of the situation would somehow claw its way back to the surface of my mind.

Well I did sleep eventually, and while I'm no longer laughing, I'm still grinning.

Things are still gloomy, but they no longer threaten to completely obliterate me. Things are actually back to exactly what they were three weeks ago. The cruelty being directed at me was not coming from the person they pretended to be. At least that's the story and I'm sticking to it.

So I've managed to scramble back into the frying pan, and that's what yesterday was about for me.

There was beer involved too.

Most of my day and night consisted of a simple two-step dance:

1. Drink a couple of beers.

2. Try to get some sleep.

This dance repeated a half-dozen times, so I drank a lot of beers. I rotated between Newcastle, Smithwick's, and Guinness, and at one point had a Stella Artois. What crap. Here's my rating:

(draft) I asked for a Belgian and got this awful thing. I don't like lagers, and this was a pretty bad lager. Bland mixed with boring.

Now it's Sunday morning and I'm surprisingly not hung-over.

I'm sitting here second-guessing a decision made a couple of weeks ago, and second-guessing has become second-nature to me, so I'm back to normal I suppose.

As normal as I get anyway.