not E, not cool

That was definitely not E. For all i know it was Viagra mixed with rat poison mixed with heroin. We were downtown at someone's recording studio when the fuzzy glow halo started hovering above my head. The room bathed in soft pink hues and then some transvestite that hadn't shaved her legs properly (wiry black hairs coming out through the fishnets) , handed me a bottle of champagne. I took a swig and felt the bubbles travel down to my gut and make a U-turn. I was cool like strawberry ice cream, and got up from the couch and zigzagged down the hallway. Bathroom occupied. I hurried down the stairs, my mouth filled with puke, and there on the street, next to a ridiculously large SUV, one that J surely would have keyed had she been drunk, and had she there -- I projectile-puked. There was a fountain of corn, banana mush and champagne but doing it felt like drinking coca-cola.
And during the night I threw up again and again. And it felt pretty nice. My body was like a sack of blood and guts but my brain was clear and pain-free like seltzer.
I didn't try to fuck the pain away. My libido has been strangely absent. Perhaps I should take up knitting?
And then, I AM embarrassed to write this, I drove home.