Finally get to the fucking club, after waiting for ten minutes in the middle of the rain trying to get a cab. I'm soaked and pissed and should've never come out in the first place. Eric's here already, of course, over in the corner setting up equipment. I really don't want to talk to him right now, though, so when he catches my eye I give him a smarmy wave and a leer and walk to the opposite corner of this shitty smelly place.

Aaron and Barb are over on a thrift-store couch in the middle of what looks like a huge conversation, and you know, I don't even want to go there, so I oh-so-slyly avoid them too. This sucks. Why am I even here? I decide that the only real course of action at this point would be to get shitfaced. Yes, this sounds good. I go over to the bar.