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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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Somehow I came home in a giant man’s jacket on Saturday night. So drunk was I that I didn’t notice the fact that I was literally drowning under the huge shoulder pads which were housed under the mass of brown cord. How could I not have registered the fact that this jacket was at least 6 inches longer than the one I originally went out in? What an affront. What a weekend. A 14-hour drinking session on the Friday for my work’s Christmas party saw me Footlosing it out in my cowboy boots at 1.30pm, describing my meal as looking like something that would come up later to a bunch of stuffy professors, sniffing poppers in the toilets like I was 13, spilling drinks and shedding flem over anyone that crossed my path and generally having a total rammy. It was ace. Again again. I didn’t make it to the pre-planned breakfast the next day; I was all vomited out and needed to prepare for Saturday evening’s proceedings. I never would have imagined that 7.5% ‘perry’ could have gotten me so fucked that I ended up in a man’s jacket and with a huge set of keys that do not belong to me but that’s exactly what happened. It was all rather hideous but yet the most amount of fun. Hottie and I spent the majority of the night wrapped around each other on the podium, against the wall and anywhere else it was inappropriate to get it on. We got our details taken by the police for something that wasn’t our fault (honest, I’m no crim!) and we gorged on other people’s food because clearly hours-old curry and chips is far more appealing than a freshly microwaved veggie burger… My ass is totally feeling the wrath today however and while that will teach me to be a gutsy bastard, I’m sure it won’t be the last time I’m a filthy food thief. And after all the alcohol, dancing and complete twatiness, yesterday was spent seeing people who weren’t there and having complete post wine paranoia. My heart has never felt so pressurised in all my life… No more alcohol, poppers and fags till at least Wednesday. And so I go bury myself in my newly acquired man’s jacket while weeping over the loss of my own one. Real tears sweetie, real tears. Britney Wannabe 
12/18/2007 02:36:00 PM
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Adventures of Charmin |
