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I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else My Profile
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I’ve not been very well for the past ten days. I’m pretty sure it’s either alcohol poisoning or concussion. I haven’t felt any semblance of self since last Friday’s shenanigans; with every day comes the nausea, the shaky legs and the heavy head. I want to say I have never been as drunk as I was that night but am sure that will be a lie, no doubt there will have been some other equally horrendous drunken moments that I have stuffed to the back of my already fragile memory. The concussion may have resulted from dancing on a homemade podium at Beast’s flat. When I say homemade I don’t mean that we constructed a dancing platform out of cardboard, held up with cheese and breadsticks because surely I would have eaten the structure before attempting to heave my body weight upon it. I mean we turned Beast’s DVD chest into a place where we could boogie because obviously after a few vodkas the floor is not sufficient. There were 5 of us so tightly packed on top of it that you could taste each person’s hot alcohol breath. But, person 6 was feeling left out and launched himself at us, despite the fact there was no room. He jumped on and we all flew off. Everyone else hit a sofa except for me who landed on the floor (“Where’s Fee?” “Help mama sweetie”) smacking my head off some metal coal bowl. Despite the instant queasy feeling, of course I partied on. I shouldn’t have had any more vodka, I should have said no when the shots were being passed around and I should have gone home after the first time I was sick. I did none of those things. I was so drunk I was sick in the street, something I am fully ashamed about and I apologise profusely to the staff at Marks and Spencer’s who may have had to slosh down the contents of my guts the next day. I made it to the door of the gay bar, felt suddenly blind and called OLIK to come take me home. All she saw was this dribbling, cross-eyed, drunken shape bouncing off walls and windows. I spent the next 6 hours alternating between vomiting and passing out. I feel I should have died. The next day was much the same and was punctuated with painful dry heaving and palpitations. As usual I declared, ‘never again’. I’m now ten days clean (does the half bottle of wine last night count?) So yes, I can safely say that I am checking into BDA (Binge Drinkers Anonymous or Bad Dancers Anonymous both of which are equally applicable and both of which resulted in my current state of bad health). Is it the weekend yet? Today’s Likes Drunken Bo: drunk and in charge of a trunk Having a gay day out with the boys Dinner with the gaylords tonight My freshly highlighted locks The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly Today’s Dislikes My holey trainers, there goes another pair My ever expanding belly… how come? Itchy hair, just wash it damn it Hummous on the keyboard Listening to: venga boys (ask no questions, I’ll tell you no lies) Britney Wannabe 
5/29/2007 01:21:00 PM
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Adventures of Charmin |
