August 13, 1979 - Monday (on Sunday)

I have this dream. Everybody's sitting in the Atlantic Cafe drinking, but all eyes are on two people. Tom Ferreira and Denise Matheus are sitting together at one end of the table with their arms around each other kissing. Steve's mouth drops open and about ten other people go to the bathroom. That's the one thing in this world I'd love to see more than anything else.
It's 3:00 in the morning, and I made a big mistake yesterday. I've got a new rule for myself-never, ever get drunk in front of relatives. I've still got a bit of a buzz on now, and I slept from 9:30 to 2:00. I had two rum and cokes, two rum and punches, a screwdriver, and about ten beers, but I still wasn't as bad as that wipeout Friday night. I've found now that I can't do anything when I'm drunk. That includes play softball, write, sleep, eat, everything except drive. Not sex drive. I haven't tried that one under the influence yet.
The party was great, and I assume everyone had a good time. If they didn't, it was thei own fault. I made my own good time.
Pete and I are going to SMU this morning. He has to change some classes, and I have to pay my tuition. Wait until he hears about my weekend.
The one thing I'm worried about is what Pa and Ma are going to have to say to me today. I hope I didn't mess it up for myself last night. There was no question I had been drinking. My face broke out all red, and I looked anemic. I've got to do something about that anyway. I'm starting to break out again. Can not let that happen.
The girls have a game tonight, and I think I heard something at that rotten party Saturday night about a get together at the Atlantic afterward. I hope this new life of mine doesn't kill me or make me sick.
Cathy Westgate, the girl Eva said likes me, isn't related to Carl. I asked him. It figures, though. I guess Carl's last name is Westcoat. My love of my life still remains a secret.
I have a new goal in life. To try to be nice. If not my life, that's my goal for the week.

Well, I think I'm a pretty nice person. At least to people who are nice to me, so that was an achievable goal.
I had horrible acne back in the day, pretty much until my mid twenties. Technology like Proactiv came around much too late to help me.
Carl Westcoat was a friend of my father's, and as I remember, kind of a ne'er-do-well. He was enlisted by my father to serve as bartender at this party, which, as I mentioned, was my grandparents' 50th anniversary. It was a huge bash, and there were tons of people there. There was a huge tent set up in Marty's driveway, and they used the garage as well. I miss my grandparents.
I turned into a drunky pretty quickly, it appears. If I drank that much now, they'd have to pump my stomach. It's been a long, long time since I've had so much as a buzz on, but I can tell you one thing-though I said I didn't know it at the time, no, I can not have sex when I'm wasted.
SMU was Southeastern Massachusetts University, which I attended for three semesters. It changed it's name to U Mass Dartmouth in 1991.