Damn, when did it get to be four a.m.? I've been sitting here, trying to drink enough water so I won't be hungover tomorrow (my tried and true anti-hangover habit, it's gotten me through many bottles of wine, gallons of margaritas, and several thousand shots), and suddenly it's four a.m.

Tomorrow, I fic. Woo. Tomorrow I fic a lot, and possibly go get a semi-healthy breakfast in a few short hours.

Tonight, there was tequila. Mucho tequila y quesadillas y hermanos. Happy birthday to my sister, K.

I am struck with the urge to both write fic and to read fic written for me. If you feel like writing a little something, leave a comment and I'll give you a prompt from, oh, either my Compact Oxford English Dictionary or my Concise Oxford Dictionary of Quotations. (The next nearest book is the Simon & Schuster Handbook for Writers [or Troyka, as we called it at university] and I doubt you want a prompt from it. Though, if you do, I'd be really impressed.)

I either need sleep, or mas tequila. Quiero mas tequila, pero no.