Very little

Yesterday, I had a busy hour and a half of work, which mainly consisted of steaming milk to 140 degrees and asking questions like, "This much?" and "Is that right?". I was also shown how to use the register, its not so bad.
I took a two hour nap after work, even though I was hungry... mostly because both my parents were home, and I hate coming home smelling like smoke and having to talk to them. So I went straight upstairs and forced myself to sleep.
Around 4pm I went to Vera's house, ready to gym it up. About 20 minutes later, we ended up skipping the gym and eating half of a blackberry-raspberry-strawberry tart cake thing. Worth it. Four hours later, we had gotten ready and had our fill of coffee & cigarettes at her table in the garage, and were on our way into the night.
First stop-- picking up stoges and 40s at AmPm. Second stop-- picking up Erik from a bar in Discovery Bay. Totally out of the way but, it's all good. Third stop-- picking up Juan from his house back in Oakley. Finally, we were on our way to Davis. We arrived at Anthony's apartment in Davis at around.... I dunno, 10:30pm, for his roommate's 21st birthday party. Cut-out anchors, construction paper posters, and banners were strewn about and taped to the walls. The mixture of people was shallow and although we enjoyed ourselves, the party got old after about 2 hours. Cops were called, people were fucked up (definitely including miss Vera!), and sober people were forced to drive. I guess while I was enveloped in eating my Wendy's, I missed seeing Vera barf out of the window in front of me. Damn! Soon, we were at Erik's apartment in Sacramento.
Even though I somehow remembered to drink a bottle of water before I went to sleep, I felt my heart pounding inside my head when I woke up. Between thoughts of "I think I might yack", I managed a couple gulps of water, which I'm sure helped in the long run. Next to my large headache, I woke up to a text from my boyfriend that read, "sup cumdumpster" from 3:45am. I knew he was drunk, and we'd been having confusing/frustrating text conversations for the past few days. Little did I know, it was only the beginning to my frustration towards him today. I felt so shitty in that first hour of waking up, that I couldn't even smoke my cigarette. That is one of the Top 10 worst feelings in the world.

Vera and I got back from the drive and taking the boys home at around 1pm. We just about finished the rest of that tart, and I made coffees for Vera, her dad, and myself. She and I sat in the open garage, talked for a while, and stared out into the framed overcast view from our seats. Throughout the hungover haze of the day, we: caught glimpses of The Natural, Much Ado About Nothing, Across the Universe, and the Mexican; ate some shrimp and noodles with yummy sauces on it (then soon regretted it), did a crossword in the Star magazine, and smoked. Finally Dominic(!) came over around 6 and we all hungout in the garage and shared stories from the past couple months. During this time, I had started to receive frequent calls from Dallas, but everytime I answered I couldn't hear a thing. I knew, however, that he was drunk, because one of the few texts we had exchanged today was that he was drunk at a birthday party, around lunchtime. Anyway, he kept calling over and over and over. I think around the 10th call, I actually heard a voice on the other end, so I jumped out of my seat and tried to hear more clearly. Still nothing. A few calls later, I had caught a few sentences, but nothing coherent. He was obviously drunk, upset for some reason, and I couldn't catch why. All I heard was "fuck" this and "fuck" that over and over, and it was seemingly directed at me. I was actually beginning to get worried, and then I remembered that this is not too out of the ordinary.

(I'm watching SNL, and I seriously love Andy Samberg. He just played Mark Wahlberg in the Neil Patrick Harris monologue haha :])

Anyway, finally Dallas's friend Scott texted me and let me know that Dallas was just really drunk and getting worked up, but Scott knew it wasn't my fault. I offered to meet them where they were, just to patch things up a little I guess. Almost immediately when I pulled up, I regretted it. I'm parallel parking, and Dallas is stumbling to my car with a beer in his hand. The next several minutes was myself asking him to stand up, and him not doing a very good job of it. Nor did he form a complete sentence or have a coherent thought. Scott walked over to me and I just turned and walked away from the stumbling mumbling mess. Scott let me know that he heard all the conversations Dallas had with me, because I was on speaker-phone, and knew Dallas was merely too drunk to realize what was going on. For a moment, we stood there together in silence and watched Dallas aimlessly wander in circles in the street, running into cars and sometimes punching or kicking them. About 10 minutes later, after various tries on Scott's part to get Dallas into the car, I decided to leave. I knew Scott would make sure Dallas was safe, and I felt no need to try and help. And not once yet have I felt bad for thinking that.
Twenty minutes or so ago, I was eating spaghetti in my kitchen when Dallas called again. I tried to tell him I was at home eating, then he asked me to go to Nick's house, where he was. I told him I had to go to bed soon, I have work tomorrow morning at 9am. Suddenly I was hearing "well fuck you then", and he said it a couple times. I hung up.

I'm gonna try to sleep now.