Saturday, January 25. 1:39PM
If I were to give these logs a title, which I don't, than this one would be called "the tortured life of a teenage alcoholic." I am ashamed. I admit I have a problem. I won't be drinking again for at least a few days.
It all began on Tuesday, when my parents packed up and headed for the beach. Naturally, I had some friends over, and we watched a few movies. It was all good, old fashioned fun. Come to think of it, we only watched Waynes World, but if that's not good, old fashioned and fun, I don't know what is. Everyone went home by about one (except for Marcus who was crashing), and I was well rested by morning, in time for work (I haven't logged for a good long while, so, just for anyone who isn't aware, I'm working 10 - 2 every day, and have been for much of this holidays). Worked a shift. It was all right, I'm sure. Came home and messed around by myself to the early hours.
Thursday we had sort of planned to have another kind of movie night, with a little drinking. We drank a lot. Between seven people we put down two bottles of Bicardi, a bottle of Raki (the fowl semen of a licorice Satan), two bottles of champagne, three of red wine, Nat had a few bourbon and cola cans. Either way... I got hammered. Very hammered. Don't recall ever being quite so hammered before. I assume I threw up, although I don't really remember it, because I think there was some of what I ate in the garden, and some more in my bedroom. I do remember setting fire to my hand (that old trick with the lighter fluid - normally harmless, except I put far to much fluid on, increasing the time extinguishing it took), explaining the blisters on my knuckles. What I don't remember is what happened to my nose, which seems to have received a mighty crack at some point. It's very red, and may be broken. I'm telling people that I was spinning a pool cue when I lost control, but in truth I have no idea. There is a broken flower pot in the back yard, a few feet in front of the chunder, so I have hypothesized that perhaps I may have taken a dive for the garden, broken a rock hard terra-cotta flower pot with the bridge of my nose, and chundered everywhere. Oh God.
But wait, gentle reader, there is more to this sordid tale than just this. Then next day, Friday, I awoke about 11:30 and said, "oh fuck, work". I walked out into the main room area and said "oh fuck, my house is trashed." For a few hours I cleaned up, intercut with phoning work (which was always engaged), till about one I decided to bite the bullet and go in there. I did, and went to see my manager. "Nikki", I said "Are you aware that I'm three hours late?", "Really?", she replied "What happened ?". I gave her a sheepish grin and said "My alarm didn't go off." "What happened to your nose?". I spun the pool cue yarn. "That's okay, you can start." "Wow", I thought. "That was easy". I worked half a shift, and spent a good deal of it going in and out the the toilet (I threw up a few times). Eventually, I told my supervisor I was sick and went home. Bought a Coke can, in the vague hope that the bubbles would ease my stomach, and they did, for a short time, until I threw up again. Eventually my parents came home, cooked me some plain rice, which I kept down, lectured my for a while on the evils of alcohol. Went to bed (at which point I discovered the now dried up chunder in my bed, cleaned it as best I could (which wasn't really all that well) and slept with out any covering.
Anyway, today, I'm more or less fine.
And now on to the rest of my log, with witch I will attempt to cover the stuff I did while I wasn't doing this website.
Well, okay... I can't remember any of it.
It was all good, however.
Last week I thought about girls quite a lot, and concluded that every year I have one basic girl, who lasts for around six months. Sure, there's usually a few other who I have one night with or something like that, but basically, one girl. Anyway, I did some math, and concluded that the season for chasing girls goes from approximately February 15 to December 30 - so look out ladies, only a few weeks till Zeedar is back on the scene and feeling randy.
Oh, and Dark Angel, a series I have been quite partial to from time to time ended, and the ending was fucking bullshit. And I wrote a feature film, that was crap, but there's this one guy I barely know who loves its ass and wants to make it, and I had a New Years Party that was all right, but some fucker cut himself and bled all over my house, and I know you'll never read this but sorry Claire, and Ed interrogated me on the secret loves of my short life and then said "oh, is that all", and I passed first year uni, and we've moved severs and have forums now, but I can't for the life of my figure out how to start a new topic, and I don't know... I got a DVD player, and have a whole shitload of cash in my room and my sister comes back soon, and I got a new computer, and an electric toothbrush and drank a lot too much very much too often, and although I hate everyone, I am enjoying my life for a change, so thank you, thank you all.