posted
I had quite a reasonable weekend as it goes. Had a haircut on Friday, watched the football and F1 qually on Saturday then enjoyed the F1 on Sunday. And I didn’t have a single hangover the whole weekend. I rate it at about 7 out of 10.
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posted
I can barely keep my eyes open today. Three days of Magners-related excess has finally taken its toll. I feel as though somebody has removed a vital organ from my body whilst I was asleep last night. Fuckers. This always seems to happen these days.
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posted
I'm in a glass-sided office block whose aircon has broken today. Which is nice. My ankles are like zepplins.
Hangover news: On Saturday night three of us shared three bottles of wine. This would usually just mean moderate pissed-ness, but the last mouthful of white wine, which I don't really like anyway, rendered me utterly shitfaced - staggering around, double vision, etc. Thus yesterday I had the most horrendous hangover, meaning I couldn't go to homebase and buy plants. I had to stay in bed until 3. Sweating.
quote:Originally posted by herbs: I'm in a glass-sided office block whose aircon has broken today.
Our aircon is also broken, plus the heating is on and can't be switched off. I can't open the window because some arseholes are drilling in the street.
posted
In terms of hangovers, I think I've taken it to the next level now. After two fairly large sessions on friday and saturday, I attempted to sleep rough on saturday night, but was picked up by a friend as I wandered about in a dream. On sunday I walked in the same daze from old street to finsbury park, and when I got there, I just walked around the park, over and over again. Colours looked all bleached out, and if I stopped moving then the world started to bend and I felt like I was sinking into the floor. I had loads of voices and conversations in my head that were driving round the bend, so I just had to keep on walking to prevent this horrible sickening feeling of madness. And I still feel tripped out today, I can't eat, and my limbs feel disconnected from my body, and I can barely speak.
And somewhere over the course of the weekend I was dumped. I think. Or something like that. Whatever happened, I remember saying that 'this is it, it's over'. But I was so drunk. But I haven't heard from her since.
I'm going to have to maybe think about giving up alcohol or something.
[ 12.06.2006, 07:07: Message edited by: Dr. Benway ]
quote:Originally posted by Dr. Benway: And somewhere over the course of the weekend I was dumped. I think. Or something like that. Whatever happened, I remember saying that 'this is it, it's over'. But I was so drunk. But I haven't heard from her since.
my weekend was quite messed up. lots of drugs. messed around with some girl who's name i don't quite recall. met another 'friend' off myspace. pissed of real life friends. just had a panic attack about money, but teh yo is here and she is calming me. jesus, iam taking advice from a fuck up wastrel. watching footage of some train crash - things aren't that bad i guess.
posted
well I don't know what's going on at this stage, partly because I don't feel like I'm entirely switched into things at the moment. Everything's got a slightly hallucinatory quality to it. My only real memories from the evening are a friend telling me that I'm an alcoholic, and then sleeping on the pavement near a station.
I'm hoping that all of this will somehow make itself right, but at the moment I don't feel like I'm in a position to take any action. It's all pretty shameful really.
quote:Originally posted by Dr. Benway: Colours looked all bleached out, and if I stopped moving then the world started to bend and I felt like I was sinking into the floor. I had loads of voices and conversations in my head that were driving round the bend, so I just had to keep on walking to prevent this horrible sickening feeling of madness.
Ecstacy and alcohol aren't an ideal combination. A few years ago, following a 13 hour wine drinking session at Maine Road, I went to a local nightclub and idiotically took a pill. An hour later, I was dragged off the dancefloor by my ex-girlfriend as I was apparently getting undressed after informing onlookers that I was 'going for a swim'. I had even placed my trainers next to the bar in preparation for the swim. Moments later I had a 60 year old hippy in a headlock and was patting him on the cheeks, telling everyone how 'cute' he was, as he continued spinning his glow sticks in the air.
posted
Whilst much of the UK has a local Irish drunk, beloved and derided in equal measure, no-one has really cornered the Chinese Accountant alkie market.
It's a form a racism we never talk about.
Frankly, I think it’s a winner.
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