I haven’t had to deal with work and a hangover simultaneously in a long long time.
I forgot how fucking awful it is.
It’s the WORST.
I don’t want to ever do this again ever. It’s so horrible.
I woke up this morning and lay there for an hour (I was 5 minutes late for work) and I just couldn’t believe what was happening to me.
How could this actually be happening, that I have to get up?
I had three days off work because of the massive snow blizzard (oh yeah there was a massive snow blizzard), my dad went all magnanimous saying “oh no point in you wasting your time in the shop, there will be no one out shopping” because I live kinda far from work so it’s a hassle with the snow. The bus apparently has to drive with chains on the wheels, but I didn’t see that because I was in bed. I was home in bed for 3 days and did nothing productive except for throw some clothes on the couch which is kind of a preliminary and pointless step towards actually packing and didn’t give me the sense of accomplishment I had hoped for. I dug out some old games I hadn’t played in ages like Age of Empires 2 which is really fun until you can afford to buy soldiers and then it is just boring. So I played that and watched season 3 of Seinfeld and some of season 9 both of which I have seen a great many times before. And I took my sisters out in the snow one evening, that was cool but they have disappointing levels of enthusiasm for snow. Damn city kids.
When I was little and it snowed I would be out freezing my ass off from the morning until it got dark and then I would go in and eat and change my socks and go back out and freeze some more. It was the best thing ever. There was never enough snow in my garden so I would ask the neighbour, this bitchy old woman who always gave out to me for not visiting her but she wasn’t anyone I knew, she was just this elderly neighbour. And I would visit her sometimes, awkwardly, so that on the extremely rare occasion it did snow, I could go in and ask if I could use her snow if she had no plans for it. And she would say of course but don’t mess up the grass. She had this massive horrible scraggy lawn and she probably guilt tripped some other non relative into cutting. It would have been fantastic to sled down but that would have messed up the grass. So I would collect her snow and my snow and then there was enough to do something like make one snowman or a wall to protect myself from attacks which never materialised due to a lack of other children in the neighbourhood.
So when my sisters were out in the snow for like five minutes they are all “my hands are cold” and “my gloves are wet” and “I don’t have any waterproof shoes” I’m like, “uh you think I had good shoes? We used to duct tape plastic bags over our shoes.”
Horrified expressions. Ok fine, you don’t have to EMBARASS yourselves with your EMBARASSING culchie sister. I used to have so much fun with plastic bags. I would widen the handles and stick my arms through them and then jump off the fence, I did this again and again for hours on end, convinced the only reason I couldn’t fly was that the cheap supermarket bags had tiny holes in them and I just needed to find the holes and tape em up. I have had a lifelong love for tape of all kinds. My favorite is duct tape, but i also dig sellotape pretty well. I can’t stand packing tape. I like electrical tape but as I am afraid of electricity and don’t really understand how it works and if I can still get eletrocuted if something is plugged out (maybe there is a little bit of electricity left in the wires?) then I don’t have a whole lot of use for it.
So I took my sisters for a romp in the snow at night. I don’t like day time snow as it is full of annoying children making noise and falling over and generally making me uncomfortable. Night snow is cool. I used to go up into the woods with my stepdad and my dog when I was younger and it snowed. He’d wake me up and be like “it’s snowing!” and I would be all groggy and not want to get up because I like to sleep, and also I don’t go outside I am an indoor person with indoor hobbies. But eventually I’d get up because it was a special occasion, the snow rarely stuck in Ireland because of all the salty sea air.
It was so awesome walking up the hill on the perfect carpet of white. Even the birds hadn’t fucked it up yet with their tracks, and it was too dangerous to drive on those country roads with the snow and ice so we could clomp around and ruin it for everyone else, the first people in the snow, just our tracks and the dog’s. The dog would freak out with the snow, all the smells covered over, also it was night time and the two of us NEVER took her for walks as we are both incredibly lazy individuals. We would walk up to the woods and there would be a couple of tracks in there like from rabbits and shit.
It was super cool. And you didn’t need a torch because it was bright anyway, and the moon just looked the business. I totally recommend going out in the snow at night over any other time of day. But in the city it’s not so great and probably a bad thing to do with kids. Anyway with my stepdad we’d say we were going to hunt the snark which is a Lewis Carroll poem. And you can’t hunt a snark in the city, it just doesn’t make sense.
So apart from that brief excursion with my sisters I have done fucking NOTHING and it was great.
And then last night, Andrea invited me out for Chinese food. REAL Chinese food. I thought I would probably try some mystery meats all right but I guess it would be mostly rice or noodle dishes with some bits of I don’t know what in there, they could tell me it was something gross but that other than that it would seem just like normal people food.
So I went with a hideously optimistic idea of what was in store.
They picked me up on a corner piled high with snow. The roads were clear but the parked cars were all surrounded, and any low traffic areas were still covered in a fully erect 6 inches of the stuff. (only unit of measurement I ever really learnt well: an average sized cock. Although I think the real average is actually much smaller. The moar you know eh folks?)
In the back of the car was a guy I couldn’t remember if I had met before and forgotten or if he was a new guy brought along to balance the company, so it wasn’t just me and Andrea and her boyfriend. Maybe it was a setup. Maybe it was nothing, just some friend of Marco’s who wanted to try the food. He was not my type anyway, too short and not very attractive and you could tell he was “the funny guy” as he made jokes but I didn’t really find him funny. I am a tough audience though, too much Seinfeld at al, the bar is high my friends.
Marco ordered for everyone from a fridge at the entrance. His family is Chinese. He is the best looking Chinese dude I have ever seen.
He ordered in Chinese and a young guy took his order, jotting it down in symbols. I tried to look around the place in a manner befitting of my not being some dumb westerner. I tried to seem nonchalant but I was starting to worry about what I had gotten myself in for. I had no idea what we were going to eat but I saw stingrays and crayfish and I thought we would probably be eating some of that shit. Gross, I’m not a fan of fish really but I guess it would be a good experience for me as I am a total pussy and never try anything new, and maybe it would be prepared in a nice way.
So the first plate arrived. Weird looking strips of something fatty, rubbery and semi transparent.
Marco was like, we will try the things first and then we will say what they are.
But Andrea came back from the toilet and was like “OH! YAY! CHICKEN FEET!”
Marco shot me a worried look. I flicked him a smile and my best unphased hipster boast “I don’t have a problem with knowing it’s chicken foots, I’m all about trying new things”
So for a second I believed my own bullshit. Then it hit me. What was actually going down at this restaurant. I was not going to be trying mystery meats and interestingly flavoured noodles. I was going to be sampling the most fucked up and weird shit that China had to offer, on purpose, and it started with chicken feet. IT STARTED with the chicken feet. What was next? I tried to remember what else I had seen besides rays and crayfish. I hadn’t even seen chicken feet there though so who the fuck knew what was coming? I tried to imagine the worst possible thing. Spiders. Spiders or cockroaches. Shudder. No, they don’t eat cockroaches no one does don’t be an idiot.
I attempted the chop sticks. Why the fuck not. I’m about to eat a bit of chicken foot.
I’m actually fighting vomit just remembering what they looked like.
I snatched at a piece of foot shaving. It was like the toughest raw chicken skin and it was rubbery. It was like… oh it was so gross. It had the consistency of cartilege.
It was wrinkly and bumpy. It was so fucking gross. I pretended it was interesting. “I like the flavour,” I lied, “it’s the consistency I’m not mad about.” I don’t know why I felt the need to review everything I tried, no one else commented.
Andrea DUG IN and over the rest of the evening she managed to put away an entire plate of those monstrosities.
Next up, some fucking snails. Oh. Oh well I guess that’s on the list, I knew a time would come in my life when i would try snails.
They were in their shells. You put a tooth pick in and yanked out the little fucker. It was gross. I drowned him in soy sauce and ate it. It was gross, but basically like shellfish. Which I also don’t like.
I realised I had completely fucked myself by pretending to be open minded. I am not open minded. This right here is why Chinese restaurants for Westerners don’t seve food that is actually Chinese. My palate is not able for it. My opinion of snails is probably best summed up by this clip from the Jerk.
I love that movie. If you haven’t seen it you should watch it.
So there I am. I can’t just not eat, it’s rude and also I don’t want to look like some privileged western douche who thinks that everything but the fillet should go in the bin. So I force myself to eat some more snails. I have another bit of chicken foot but it is too much, I can’t do it. I swallow the bit whole and start hitting the wine. The snails are ok I guess. Once you get over the look of them and the consistency, and the fact that the normal food they most resemble (shellfish) is a flavour i don’t like anyway.
But Andrea loves these goddamn snails. She eats ALL THE FUCKING CHICKEN FOOT and ALL THE FUCKING SNAILS.
Then we get a meaty looking surprise. It’s a weird shape, like a flattened circle. It might be something gross. It’s definitely something gross. but it looks like meat although most of it is fat. I am a little miffed to be eating fatty food and not even enjoying it.
I try a bit. Tasty enough but the fattyness is too much for me. There are little squares of red crap too that look like liver.
I eat some.
I’m still eating when Marco reveals I have just had pig intestine and coagulated pig blood. Oh.
There is rice. the rice has little bits of what looks like pig blood in it, but otherwise it is egg fried rice. I tuck in as it is by far the least off putting thing on the table. I have put away about 10 snails so I guess I can afford to take a break from pushing my boundaries for a minute. They are probably convinced of my adventurous and polite personality because of all those snails.
Actually it’s not little bits of pig blood, it’s mushrooms. I fucking HATE mushrooms but they are so welcome right now, I scarf them down.
A new arrival to the table. It’s meaty looking but the shape of a wishbone and very scrawny. You pull the meaty bit off with your teeth. I know this is something gross, I start imagining maybe it is a really big insect or one of those animals that has a forked penis, but I can’t remember what animal that is. I eat some. It is pretty tasty but I am not a fan of the consistency. Damn it so much rubbery crap.
It’s mostly ok though and kind of like meat. I eat about 6 of these guys dreading the big reveal…
Marco tells me it is duck tongue. You sure liked that duck tongue! Yeah, I kind of almost did.
I make my way through the evening eating whatever grosses me out the least. I drink lots of wine.
I begin raising my voice louder.
Whenever there is silence at the table I reveal some interesting facts to liven things up.
“I have had 3 days off work so NATURALLY I spent a lot of time on the internet.” I do a kind of wink wink, nudge nudge thing. There are a lot of real Chinese people at other tables looking over at us. I decide against talking about dirty things on the internet, thank fuck.
“So I learnt all these facts.”
“Did you know they are cloning a wooly mammoth?”
“Well.. I think. I can’t remember are they cloning one or are they thinking about doing it, or are they nearly able to. But something… Something like that.”
“And then probably a dinosaur.” That, I made up. I can’t remember what I read actually. My brain is a wonderful brain… for a bullshitter. It fills in the gaps in my memory so convincingly, I can’t tell what I have made up and what I actually remember. It’s not great for actual conversation. But it’s good for talking shit when drunk, it means I can keep talking for longer without having to stop and scratch my head too much.
“And a neanderthal, maybe.”
I don’t know. Probably not, eh.
“Did you know that all humans on earth apart from Africa, all of us have part Neanderthal dna? That’s true. Cool huh? I love neanderthals.”
Huh. Nobody knew that. I am the FACTMASTER.
I think of other facts to tell them. Some of them are not facts, but at least I keep the conversation going while the others neglect to bring anything to the table. They are all slurping up snails. Marco is eating them like fucking pistachios. The other guy who is pretty fucking nondescript really, is chowing down on everything, completely unphased, or better at hiding it than me.
Marco eats all the intestine on the plate and leaves the blood. Ugh, blood.
Oh that grosses you out does it now?
For some reason I decide to prove my valour and eat another piece of blood to show him. Yum yum! Oh man it’s gross. More wine. More more more wine.
There are some really tasty pasta dishes. Soy pasta strips like tagliatelli but green, and rice pasta dumplings filled with mystery meat. Yum. I eat loads of that shit. Then there’s pineapple, that was delicious.
There was other gross stuff on the table but it eludes me now. Oh yeah, tripe. the one thing I didn’t try. It arrived late, I guess I had already reached as far as I could push myself and it was just so furry looking. Not furry, but like… knobbly. I just knew it was going to be rubbery too. I couldn’t do it. I pretended I had a scary incident with tripe before, one I “didn’t want to go into while we were eating.” Why I couldn’t just say, I don’t like the look of that, I don’t know.
We paid and left. The car wouldn’t move in the snow. There was too much around the tyres. We dug out the tyres as well as we could and I fell a lot in the snow and screeched drunkenly. Then he tried again, but the car wouldn’t move.
The guy (sorry I don’t remember his name, or his face. Or his personality.) started trying to push the car. Path-etic. I tried to join him but I wasn’t really getting a grip on the ground, I kept sliding on the snow. Hmm.
I was determined to push that car and prove I was strong. The guy was still trying. I felt total and utter contempt for him. Pah, weakiling. I dug my heels against the footpath and put my shoulder to the front of the car. Unnnnghhh…. I felt the guy beside me was doing absolutely nothing. I shoved my shoulder again…
And it rolled back. YAY!
So I proved I was strong like Hulk but instead of just smirking like a self-satisfied twat I decided it was necessary to highlight my achievement for everyone around.
I began running around the footpath screaming “I am so strong! I am so strong! Nobody can touch me, I’m strong like a farm animal!” and trying to “tag” Andrea.
“Get in the car! Get in the car MFO!”
I got in and continued boasting about my strength. It’s because I used to climb trees when I was younger, probably. Are you from the city, guy whose name I forget? I’m not, originally.
Oh cringe, I’m such a jerk and a very annoying drunk.
We went to some bar. I was absolutely shitfaced after all that wine. I guess I drank more than everyone else who actually enjoyed their meal.
I gushed my thanks at Marco for sharing his culture with me and giving me the chance to eat snails right out of their houses.
“If you hada told me a week ago, MFO you will be eating snails, and you will LOVE THEM, I would have said “get the fuck out of my face and quit lying to me!”
Went to this bar. I thought it was like a little ski shack but I guess the snow just made it look that way and it was a normal bar.
We got more drinks and went back outside. I drank mine in two swigs and fell in the snow.
We went inside and there was some shitty band playing. Or maybe they were good, I don’t know.
Marco paid for some drinks, then the other guy paid for some. For some odd reason I put a 2 euro coin on the bar for the barmaid and began winking and told the other guy “That’s how we do things in Ireland. We tip people.” Except, no. I never tipped a barman in my life, I don’t know what the fuck. I wasn’t even having a moment of lesbianity. I was just being weird.
I was very loud all the time.
We went outside for a smoke… Oh yeah I smoked last night. The guy smoked and I wanted to smoke. I began hounding these girls I don’t know, talking to them about who the fuck knows. Urgh I told them where I work. I told them some facts too. The other guy dragged me away and was like “come with me, I need to buy smokes.” I was pretty sure I had seen his pack of smokes and it was nearly full but I guessed he had probably just smoked them all so I agreed to go with him because, why the fuck not? Fun in the snow.
So now I remember that I guess he liked me, but at the time I was totally oblivious because I usually pretend people I don’t like,don’t like me, so that I can be drunk and have a good time and ignore the come ons.
So I skipped down the street with him and he got smokes and I started being like “oh my god I am SOOOO BORED let’s just go already!” and he’s like, “hang on I have to have the right change.” and I’m like UGHH I WISH I HAD NEVER COME THIS IS SO BORING!
But finally the ordeal is over and we walk back to the bar. He links my arm I presume to stop me falling in the road but maybe he was coming onto me. I did look pretty sweet last night.
We find another room to the bar, and there’s a foozball table. It’s called something retarded in Italy, I can’t remember what but it always pisses me off. I don’t care if they invented it, the name is stupid. Subbutteo. What a stupid name.
So we’re playing and I am DRUNK.
I just roll those bads boys as fast as I can and no one stops me because I am still totally shit even though I am cheating. I let so many goals go past it is unreal.
I lose. We change teams. My team loses again. And again.
I begin running circles around the table chanting “we are the champions!” and I fall over. I crawl under the table for some reason. I bump my head when they pull me out by my arms. I am crazy eyed probably.
The other people in the room are eyeing me nervously. I think this is the chill out room. I also think they are checkin’ me out. I wonder if any of them are attractive, I really can’t tell. Either all of them are gorgeous or none of them are. I can’t tell. It feels like I am in a ski lodge. Everyone is wearing jumpers. OH, it’s just winter I guess.
We leave the bar, I moan and want to stay and have fun with my new friends those girls. I think those are the girls I made friends with, I’m not sure. It was exciting. They were girls, and I infiltrated their group and told them jokes for a few minutes and then they went back to talking to each other.
In the car on the way home, other guy is in the back with me and he’s feeling my ass. I don’t know why he is doing that, but I decide it’s ok. I let him feel my ass for the car ride. I put my hand on his leg for a minute but I have absolutely no desire to touch him at all so I remove it. He tries to grope me more intensely. I am kind of really into it for a minute and try remember two things I am sure I knew earlier, that I find this guy in no way attractive and he is gross, and that my apartment is disgustingly filthy after 3 days of squalour and no one can see it, and it smells bad too, but I can’t remember either of these things. It’s all foggy. I wonder if I will invite him up to my apartment. They drop me off at my house. I don’t invite him in. Hooray!
I neglect to drink any water. I must have put on an episode of seinfeld and fallen asleep fully clothed.
I woke up at 4am dying, absolutely dying and needing to pee. All the events of the night must have taken place early. Oh god yes they did. I was probably in that state at like, 10pm or 11 at the latest.
I remember inviting EVERYONE to London to visit me when I move there. Well, Andrea and Marco. Then other guy pipes in. I want to go to London. I consider it and then I’m like, yeah why not! All of you, the more the merrier!
I start getting jobs for them too. I don’t even have a job for myself, I don’t even live there.
I don’t even like this guy, he is boring.
Andrea is cool, she can come and visit. That would be nice. And I like her boyfriend although he made me eat chicken foots, that was really my own fault for faking open mindedness. I could have said “no thanks” and not gone to the restaurant and not eaten chicken foot.
Anyway. I woke up and spent about an hour lying in bed wanting to pee but just unable to contemplate doing anything about it. And remembering the chicken foots. My mouth, might I add, tasted like wet dog smells.
And ass. Like a wet dog’s ass in my mouth.
It still does. I have brushed my teeth and rinsed with mouthwash but it lingers. It’s in my pores. I have been contaminated with snails and chicken foots and I will never smell the same again. One thing I am glad about, I didn’t bring home that guy. Imagine morning breath like that, OTHER person’s morning breath like that. It’s so obvious now he was trying to get into me all night but I just didn’t notice because I was so not interested in him. It would have seemed like a vast over reach on his part, before I had all that wine. I’ve said it before and hot dog I’ll say it again, men are that sleazy and persistent because it fucking works.
My mouth is so horrible.
I finally got up and peed and saw my reflection and oh man that is bad. I look at my face and it is full of lines. My face is puffy and bloated and yet somehow dried out and shrivelled up. I look like spongebob after too much ice cream.
I go back to bed and notice, holy fuck I didn’t set the alarm clock. I have to WORK today. I feel like this and I have to WORK.
What a jip in the eye.
I set my alarm and have a solpadeine in water and the water only re-awakens the dormant flavours in my mouth. UGh. It’s not like wet dog, it’s like dead dog. I smelt burning dog one time, that was the worst smell I ever smelt.
It was in Argentina, on the way to my grandfather’s funeral. I was in the funeral car with my aunts and grandmother, which felt weird and wrong because I had known my grandad least of all the family. But my aunt was kind of treating me like a stand-in for my dad, who wasn’t able to make it. She wept a lot and held me so tight it hurt. She’s a little woman but very intense with her emotions. She wailed and wailed. But on the way to the cemetary which was ages away from home, we had to go through a REALLY bad part of like, shanty town. And there were malnourished kids playing in the dirt and the road was earth and there was a bonfire and they had put a dead dog on the bonfire. And the smell of that came in our windows because it was summer and the windows were down. And it smelt so much like death, and we had my grandfather in the back. It was very sad and horrible, but what really grossed me out was that there was a dog nearby just chilling out. I don’t know what I would expect another dog to do, cry doggy tears or howl or run away or what, but it looked wrong just hanging out while another dog was burning. And the kids were all running around and they stared at the hearse and we rolled up the windows and locked the doors and drove past.
My mouth, anyway, reminds me of that smell. It’s fucking revolting. I’m trying my damndest not to puke typing this.
It doesn’t help that I still smell exactly like the food I am trying to forget. My whole body reeks of it.
I am counting on my dad not coming in and catching me on the computer today because it has started snowing again and he’s probabyl having another pyjama day. I can’t hope for any more of those, now on Friday I start a double shift cycle because one of the girls is taking her holidays. I need the money but it’s tough doing loads of double shifts together when I had a few days off, because it feels like I should earn lots more but the holidays balance it out and it’s like… just normal at the end of the month.
My tummy hurts like a motherfucker.
I keep getting customers coming in. I have a new nickname for them. Cunt-stomers. Because they are cunts.
I just told these two bitches, the shoes are all on display by the door. On shelves. Neatly displayed. They smile and nod and continue rooting around on the stairs where there are boxes of shoes, which is where I go to get them the right sizes but they are not supposed to be messing around there at all. It pisses me off, they are rooting around there and I have gone to all this trouble to put the shoes lined up where they can see them all properly, on a nice shelf. And instead they are knocking over boxes and letting shoes fall out and then putting them back in the wrong boxes. But I don’t have the energy to be a bitch right now. I just let them run amok and when they go I sigh out loud and stack the shoes back up again. But I don’t bother checking the sizes because fuck that right now.
Another woman comes in. She’s a right bitch.
She asks me if I have this shoe in her size and then I go to get her size, and she starts jamming her foot into the one she picked up from the shelf, and I’m like, oh you’re trying that one on, what size is that? And she’s like “I don’t know but it’s far too small!” and she’s huffing and puffing and I’m like, right I’ll just get your size then and she’s like yeah this is FAR TOO SMALL! And I’m like, lady, I didn’t tell you to try that on, whatever size that is, and neither of us know what size it is anyway so the fact that it’s too small doesn’t mean anything.I don’t say that of course, I try to make my face smile and I trudge off to the stairs and consider lying to her and telling her I don’t have her size, but that always backfires, like they somehow find it anyway, or start asking for a bigger size, and I just have to lie and lie and I can’t take it right now. So I get her the size and hand it to her and she’s like, “See, THIS fits!” like as if I was trying to force the small one on her. And I check the small one and it’s like 4 sizes too small. Dumb broad.
She buys the shoes and starts raving about how she usually needs some kind of special underfoot thing to go in her shoe because years ago she broke her ankle and she has had to wear this underfoot thing ever since. And I’m like yes yes yes great wow cool oh no. And she pays and leaves and then comes back in and informs me that she’s just seen another shoe in the window that she likes but she thinks the ones she just bought are fine actually she really likes them and hopes her underfoot thing will fit in them. I just agree with her, whatever the fuck she is saying and she keeps smiling at me and then leaves, not bothering to close the door after her although it is SNOWING.
It’s fucking intense out there. The cars are already covered again. It’s been snowing for what, three hours?
I have been writing this for three hours. That’s mad shit man. And wonderful because it means I can soon go home and go to bed and watch seinfeld some more. I have these bursts of Seinfeld obsesssion, I’ll watch like two or three series whole and then I just stop and leave it and forget all about Seinfeld.. By the end of one of my Seinfeld seasons, I get so wrapped up in it I actually think that is my social life, going to visit Jerry in his apartment. I get confused and infinitely more sarcastic about everything.
I just remembered, my dad’s wife texted me asking if I could pick up my littlest sister (sweet but FULL of energy and loudness) from school (really far away and cold and full of children screaming) and bring her back to my house (a very cold and long walk) and keep her there with me for a few hours (oh my god no) and I decided to deal with that by pretending I didn’t get the message. But then my dad called my mobile and asked “how’s the internet working today? Ok? haha. I saw you through the window, you were looking up apartments to rent in London”. I know this is a lie because I know he’s at home, but it’s a good guess and I could just as easily have been doing that.
So I can’t say I didn’t look at my phone all day or had a dead battery. But I just can’t bear the idea of hangover dealing with small and enthusiastic child and I can’t be narky or mean to my sister she is too sweet and awesome. Also, I can’t bring her to my house it is FILTHY and if I tell my stepmom that she will be like “don’t worry she won’t mind” but the point is, she has no idea what my idea of filth is as I keep that side of me hidden. They probably think when I say filthy, I mean what I actually consider clean. Like one time I had said my house was filthy and then I cleaned it and they came over for pancakes and they looked around and my older younger sister was like “it’s not TOO bad really” but I was all ashamed because that was clean, I had spent a long time cleaning so they could come over and eat pancakes in a hygenic environment. But I didn’t say anything like that, I went along with it so now they just think I am really houseproud.
And it’s the opposite.
But mostly, I am too hung over to deal with a little kid today. No fucking way would that be a thing I could handle. No.
So I am pretending to have not read the message. I don’t know how believable that is but it’s the only avenue of action open to me.
I just hope she doesn’t REALLY need me to do this for her, and she just finds someone else and doesn’t like, call me and ask because I can’t say no to my stepmom, I just can’t. I am much nicer to her than I am to my mother, I guess because although I know she loves me, most of that love is based on who I am, and how I act. She doesn’t love me unconditionally, she loves me because she knows me and likes who I am and I’m part of her family and I’m nice and helpful and generally a good influence on my sisters although not when I am hung over.
So I’m just hoping I make it home and into bed before she can call me and ask the worst possible favour anyone could ask of me. The worst thing is that she wouldn’t even realise what a monstrously bad experience it would be. She has no idea. If it was my actual mother I would just moan “I’m so hung oveeeeeer” down the phone and she would come and pick me up and make soup for me and bring me a hot water bottle. And I would probably get pissed off because she would insist on talking to me and asking me were there “any nice boys” which is what she used to ask me when I was hung over, it has now become the more adult “any interesting men?”
And I would be like MOTH-ERRRR please! No! I was having fun with my friends. (LIES, I ditched my friends to go back to some random guy’s place)
I can’t tell my mum anything about boys, when I casually told her that I thought hot barman was “quite nice looking” she began making “eeeeewwwooooooooo” noises and winking at me and saying things like “why don’t you go get us some coffees, so you can go hang out with your booooooooyfriend!” and obviously I appreciated that but it’s so cringe how she says it. Mother I am not a child!
But I should appreciate my mother more. I miss her. When I’m hung over I miss her a lot. I call her sometimes, like if I have THE FEAR. It doesn’t help. She nags me. I remember, oh yeah it’s not nice to call your mum when you’re hung over, she just gives out about getting into such a bad state and being drunk and she worries. I forget that and think she will send me audible soup or something.
I hope my friends are home later so I can call them and whine down the phone. One friend always cheers me up when I feel I made a tit of myself by telling me the people I was with sound like saps and they were probably saps and I shouldn’t be ashamed because I was just drinking to make them seem more interesting, and providing entertainment for them. And another friend has a nack for having recently gone out and done something similar levels of cringe so that makes me feel better to.
Ahhh friends. FRIENDS!
I miss friends. Instead I am here with this young couple in my shop. The girl has kind of a shnozz but the guy is HOT. They are young, like late teenagers but he looks kind of like Cillian Murphy. But hotter and with a touch of the auld teenage skin. But he’s gorgeous, way more gorgeous than the girl. I decide she is a cunt and I hate her. He stares at me a lot. I wonder is it because he is checking me out or is it because I look like I’ve just had my stomach pumped. Or maybe he is watching me while she shoplifts. I don’t even care I’m too fucked. I feel shitty. This blog things was distracting me but then I realised I am going to have to stop writing it soon as I am really pissing all over your attention span and you probably haven’t read this but that’s not why I am writing, I am writing to make myself feel better. It settles the stomach, or at least it is doing that since I stopped remembering chicken foot. OH damn there I go again picturing that plate of chicken foot. Urgh. Why it couldn’t have been stingray and eel, I don’t know. I guess he just wanted to push the limits, and also, I guess Andrea likes that stuff. She’s weird.
I mentioned that I had only had duck before with those pancakes, and he was like Peking duck yeah! That’s the famous one. And I was thinking, yeah THAT would have been pretty nice. Peking duck would have been very nice indeed.
Holy shit, it is seriously snowing outside. It’s big clumps of snow falling pretty fast. I have never seen such big snowflakes before, they are odd shapes. Maybe I just haven’t paid attention.
Iam grateful oh so grateful for the tram right now, he’ll get me home no problem. The tram is a fucking beast, nothing stops the tram.
Groaaaan my hands really hurt, probably from pushing the car or from falling in the snow.
I am not toooo embarassed although I hope if I move to London that boring guy doesn’t think he is invited to stay with me. One time I made drunken plans to get my nipples pierced (yes, both) with this group of girls I had just met and we were all drunk, they drove me home about 8 of us packed in a Fiat Panda (the old style one) drunk out of our minds (bad italians drunk driving all the time) and the next day they were calling me being like, right where is the piercing place?
I didn’t get my nips pierced, thank fuck.
Ok, on that note I will leave you. I just had a customer who insisted on fucking talking to me constantly for ages and she made the vein in my eyelid start twitching. Rude bitch.
I have to go and sit down and drink some water. It’s been real. Peace out.