School-night pAArties... When will I ever learn?!?

Figure 1. Story of my life.

OM-fing-G! death is knocking at my door today… In a bid to play wingman for my housemate, I decided (stoopid!) that it would be a fabulous idea to go out to Billy the Bums to entertain her ubah-spamoni that flew up from CT to see her for one week before jetsetting off to Oxford to complete his MBA ß Baby-rape time! “BE MY BABY’s DADDY!!!”

The night began with me lying in bed reading my book whilst peacefully awaiting her return home from dinner so I could join her in an escapade! That’s where the PG ratings end folks… Well, did I ever join her!!! TOTAL ANNIHILATION STYLE. Bring the rain!! Upon arrival at billy’s, I left my dignity, liver and stomach lining in the car, ordered a storm and started to poison myself… rapidly! My delightful housemate and her questionably-straight male suitor proceeded to purchase tequila shooters. Well, we ALL know what happens with tequila - Hallo drunkenness, good-bye socially acceptable behaviour and too-da-loo name!! And did I ever slore my name across billy’s… No man, womyn or man-womyn was safe from my spumoni hunting as I stumbled through the crowds. It’s really awkward (like awkward sandton-pigoen awkward … corooooo corooo) that I keep meeting people who know me and my sayings but I have NO idea who they are… I blame the jagermeisters for that. Fail. Anyways, As the sign in Billy’s states: Elegantly Wasted, I was Effing Wasted instead. (I seriously think they should consider removing the Elegantly from that statement… no-one in Billy’s is elegant. Ever.)

The lights come on and I discovered that I was NOT the only gay in this villAAge! Drunken me + alcohol in hand + another gay in my village = Houston, we have a problem…. Hide the womyn and children! So, I stumble up to this goldfish as it leans nonchalantly against the bar and proceed to purchase some jagers for us. I think I do so to numb the pain of scoring such trash that has arisen from the Bermuda triangle (Boksburg, Benoni and Brakpan) and spewed itself upon my party establishment… Either that or to make myself easier than I already am (which, btw is hard, because I’m pretty easy as it is!) Proceeding to leave all shreds of humanity behind I dragged said prey onto dancefloor and raunched him. Yes, in the middle of the dancefloor. With the lights on. In front of the staff of my favourite white trash party venue… totally awkward next time I go back!!! Frankly, I’m quite surprised I was not molested by some poorly dressed, gay-bashing, banjo-playing, pick-up driving pre-1994 neanderthal. Count my lucky stars. Well, this goldfish was ALL about the chase for me. He certainly was no looker… even I could see that and I could barely see my hand in front of my face! To add to this, he was most certainly in his 40s… which, if one factors in that I look 12 makes him seriously dodgy…. Like Michael Jackson kinda dodgy. Oh well. My second swim in the over-40s pond and I’m certainly gonna start limiting that activity! He even offered me sex and drugs in his car (which I told him, if it wasn’t a new BMW 3 series, then I wasn’t interested!) – but I mean really. Drugs for sex! I may have WHORE stamped across my forehead, but crack-whore… I have a shred of morality and dignity left in me. Really now. Ha! So rashed by such undignifying and crass implications. Does he not know that my daddy has 6 ponies on his polo-field!?!?!?!? Gosh!

Once home, I proceed to hang onto the toilet to stop the world from spinning, and to make some serious captain tacticals! More like post-war casualties actually. I forgot to captain tactical which is why I was hugging the toilet. Dumbass! Ri-tard! After turning off my alarm following my 2 hours of sleep on the bathroom floor, I went back to sleep. Only to wake at 7.45 which meant I was already late for work…I was still drunk. I showered (apparently), tried to eat some cardboard flavoured jungle oats crap, drove to work (apparently), bought a red ambulance (coca-cola) and some Flings on the way to work. I remember very little about my drunken stumble to the office. All I know is that post-shower I layered myself in cologne to mask the tequila that is sure to sweat out of my pores over the period of today and drove with my music far too loud and the aircon on -4 degrees on full speed with ALL vents pointing at my face as I tried not to puke out the window at the robots!

Now, I’m sitting at my desk. The computer is bright. The air is hot and stale. The waves of nausea wash over me constantly and strongly at frequent intervals. My head feels like an entire school of obese children are using it as a jumping castle. And, I am nursing that 500ml of coke home to the finish… and by nursing, I mean it is limping in, disheveled, molested, raped and barely crawling home one sip at a time.

Figure 2. How I feel right now...

BAM!

NOTE TO SELF:

Dear Little Goldfish

You effing Ri-tard. What the eff were u thinking pAArtying like that on a school night?!?! Under no circumstances are we doing that again....

Regards

Your liver and kidneys

PS: Well, at least wait till this evening before we start drinking again… Rehab is for Girls!