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Good things are happening.

Somehow, I'm not hungover. This mystifies me. See, as an almost-thirty-year-old, my ability to rebound from a night such as last night has been eroded by years of abuse and neglect... so when a miracle like this happens, I'm left wondering -- why am I not suffering? What did I do right?

My friend Paul presented me with a burned copy...
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3:48 a.m., Sunday morning.

Just got back from Toronto. Went to celebrate my friend Steven's birthday in grand style. We closed out Pauper's Pub on Bloor. mmmm, Strongbow. Note to self: Buy some of that, and soon.

Met a girl. Gorgeous. Way out of my league. For some reason, kept making eyes at me all night. (must be my '4-H' Tee...) Turns out, she's a...
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So this is it. The first journal entry.

I should say something witty. Something they'll remember me by. Something that shows I'm a person of substance.

(pause)

(belch)

I can't think of anything.