And my head hurts

It's been an odd coupla weeks.

Since about the twenty second (day after I wrote my super important, life altering exam), I've been waking up either still drunk or heavily hung over. Except on wednesday, I took a break on wednesday.

Today I'm the latter. I'm having an issue of a time staying up and the typing is being accompanied by me slowly mouthing the words (alcohol makes me kinda slow and dull). Normally, this wouldn't be an issue cos waking up is normally the most productive thing I do. But today I have an interview.
Like for a job.
An actual paying job.

It doesn't pay alot, but maybe I'll be able to replace all the things I've ruined as a result of my drinking. Like my sunnies, my specs, my speakers, my dignity...

Maybe I should stop drinking.



Nah.
But really, my head hurts.

A real life mountain

I climbed a real life mountain, in a pair of skinny pants and Clark's (like mens office shoes).
I really am that hardcore.

I should prob'ly mention that I'm back to my real life in Cape Town. I love Cape Town. In a week I'll be hating the weather, asshat drivers and having to pay my own food bill, but right now I love it.

Back to the mountaineering:
It started, like it always does, with a drink. I had missed Matt's 21st last year so I said I'd take him out for a drink. After our second jug we decided to go up to the mountain (no, not that mountain, we did Lion's Head - not as amazing, but come on) 'coz you know, doing touristy things can be fun even without the German tour guide. We came back to my place and sorted out a picnic, by which I mean we got a packet of crisps, a veggie loaf thingy and a bottle of tonic water from my friendly spar. We then filled a water bottle with gin and tonic. I know, but it didn't feel like such a bad idea at the time.

We got to the base and decided to climb up instead of just hanging out at the base. It was a dumb idea. We made it though. And yes my shoes are ruined and my phone hurts from when I wacked it into the mountain, but I feel like I achieved something.

Afters we had dinner at Matt's place (post shower) and went out coz we deserved to.

I drank too much and managed to scrape my knee, sprain my wrist and scrape the back of my arm. Also my kitchen looks like I feel. And I woke up on the floor still holding a tube of Deep Heat (closed).
Never again.

Just remembered: I bumped into the lead singer of my favourite, as yet unfamous, band (Mama Know Nothing) and completely did the fanboy thing. I'm never touching that gin stuff ever again.

I kissed a boy, and he liked it

Yeah, I changed his name to Boy. What you gonna do?

I'm still quitting.
I just wanted to share my little perry-esque drunken snogging moment. There's even a song.

Some time in the not too distant past, a really, really good mate of mine's good mate got dumped by his girlfriend. On the same night, I threw a revolving door mixer. The idea behind the revolving door (or just red door) is to invite everyone you know and have them come over and hang about for as long/short a time as suits them. That way you don't have your neighbours calling the cops cos there's a building code violation going on in your flat.

They called my folks instead. (just embarrassing)
Completely not the story point.

On said night, really, really good mate and his mate (his mate is actually my mate too. hmm... should i give names. and should I use their real ones. hmm...)

Like I was saying, Matt (really good mate) brought his flatmate, Boy (really good mate's mate - pay attention) along to cheer him up and get him to stop thinking bout his freshly acquired ex. Boy, obviously, spent most of his time sitting on my couch drinking late harvest white wine and checking his facebook.

Everyone else spent their time drinking late harvest and telling my neighbour what a wanker he is (he is).

Eventually someone picked up a guitar and all o'sudden everyone was gone. It's always a bad idea, unless you're a Followill.

Because I'm irresponsible and like gin, I suggested we (Boy and Me) tag along on Matt's find my drunk boyfriend mission. But Matt was just a little too drunk to drive. Obviously he needed to sober up first and the best place to do that was (again) obviously, the bar at which the then object of my straight girl crush was at. She was actually there on an extension of some work party and may or may not have appreciated my slurred introduction to her boss.

Again not story point.
Story point:

Boy looked all sad and drunk sitting on the slightly gross couch he'd only days earlier been making out on with the now evil ex. (that's pure conjecture. and she's not evil). Anyway, he needed cheering up but I could no longer afford to buy him the colourful shots that used to get him giddy. So I offered to kiss him

On the cheek.
And I did (actually, I kissed his neck, but that's coz I was ker-hammered). He said a lip kiss would be more cheery so I lip kissed him. Like we were six. Apparently that didn't count either. "ok, you kiss me then". He did. Like we were sixteen and on a schooldance floor (yes, the floor at a school dance).

The night continued as we found Matt's boy, lost Amanda's shoe (she'd been around from the late harvest moments) and I changed shirts on the dancefloor of some post goth indie kid dive bar while hitting on (trying at any rate) some girl who (turns out) works at my favourite brunch place. Which I now can't ever again go back to (it's the whole being semi naked mental image).

Unfortunately the night ended with a six am call that my cousin had been in a car accident. It wasn't bad: his biggest ish was that he'd lost his pizza when he crashed. Into a parked car. And he was sober.

Oh, I was lying about there being a song.

I just thought of this coz I was thinking how the only person I've ever kissed for the first time whilst completely off the drink was a boy. It was in high school and he was my boyfriend. Such an odd thought just four years later. But I still don't consider myself completely gay. Maybe I'll get all gender studies and say I'm queer.

Like an official resignation, but not

I'm quitting.

Yeah.
It's become rather obvious that I'm no longer good at stringing words together and making them in any way amusing. I blame my maths degree. And the stats one that I'm halfway through.

And yes, I do feel better knowing that although I may lose my ability to speak using words and will eventually be unemployable, I'll have a collection of marginally useless degrees to keep me warm at night. And there'll always be gin.

Maybe I won't quit entirely.
Nah, I prob'ly shud.

I have more in the freezer

I'm bad at finishing things (except caramel sponge cake).

As we speak (or rather, as I type), there are four unfinished posts waiting in the limbo that is blogger space.
I'm gonna try finish this post. It's gnna be like a Jason Stathem movie though cos I only have ten minutes of battery and no cable (I left it somewhere arb and can't find it).

In addition to liking cake I also have a toast habit I'm trying to kick.

No coloured text this time around (sorry)
and I promise (scout's honour) the next post will be better.

ok light flashing

bye

labels

Ok, I'll admit it: the last post was kinda crap.

I can say that cos, well, it is and - even though I don't normally take kindly to criticism - you can say as much for the same.

I kinda started it meaning to say something bout who I am, but then realised I wasn't quite sure how I wanted to define myself. That's cos I don't like LABELS: (really digging the small caps in colours (easily amused: check)).

Yeah they're pretty handy on old tinned food, but I prefer my msg in aromat form so again, no need for the labels.

Me (mostly)

I realised you have no idea who I am.

Can't promise accuracy but here is ME IN A LIST:
first off, I like lists, small caps and blue.
I don't particularly like war. No one should. But I can march (this is an actual achievement).
And I'm twenty.
and i 'm often too lazy to cap when i should.

I'm sure (yea, pretty sure) there's some personality thrown in there as well as more other stuff, but I've never been able to speak about myself. Well, not well.
I know, I know: what a non blogger attribute. But just like my slightly chubby fingers, it's a disability I'm trying to overcome.

Completely unrelated: is this a funny blog or one just about my life?
hmm, stuff to ponder.

love at one am

Not the obvious.

Actually it does involve the internet and me typing away in a dark and empty room.
But that's because it's my bedroom. At night.

Back to love, I'm three million percent in love with everything autowin involved.
Granted I am tired and haven't slept for longer than four hours in one go this whole year (doesn't everyone just love january) and am therefore really easily amused. But this is all funny. read it all.

sleepies