FOR WHAT NEED IS THERE FOR FISH TO SING, WHEN I CAN ROAR AND BELLOW?
Going to the doctors soon to get my head figured out.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Panadol is the world's greatest invention.
I have just finished reading the book for which I have an essay due tommorow: Kate Atkinson's Behind the Scenes at the Museum. Notice the way I used Italics to reference a book? That is because I am an english dweeb. Soon I will start the essay, where I shall be discussing the significance of the books title to the content. I will not finish it tonight, but even though it is late and I have work tomorow morning, I feel the need to start it now, while it is fresh in my mind. Besides, tonight is not a good night for sleeping. The air is restless with helicopters, dogs and my Phantom Clock (there are no batteries in it, but I hear it ticking often). Anyway, I have four hours to do this essay after I finish work tomorrow, which is more than enough time for a 1500 word essay of this level.
This weekend, thanks to a deposit of suplus monies from the flat account, I have been able to drink and eat, and most importaintly, buy panadol. I never used to rely on panadol for hangover cures, perferring rather to be stoic in the fact that the headaches and woozyness was somthing self inflicted and so I should roll with it, and I have even had, on occasion, hangovers that have been more enjoyable than the drinking it took to get them, but you cannot be productive during a hangover, ejoyable or not. So enter panadol, which gets rid of most of the symptoms of hangovers, and allows me to at least read books for classes. Wheather this discovery shall breed within me a new found desire to further my alcoholism by taking away any deterant or shall simply help me to become a better functioning member of society (all those mornings at work I have spent hungover! why didn't I pop a pill?) remains to be seen.
As you might be able to tell from reading this I am in a much better mood than I have been lately. I am on the up cycle of my by now sickenly familiar depression cycle, and so know that payment shall be extracted later, probably at about 9am tommorow. As you also might have noticed, I have been doing alot of this new-age emotional namby-pamby mental musing crap, but as I have noticed, it is actually uite helpful for me to be able to look back on my life in this form to see what has happened, becuase I simply cannot keep all that memory inside my sive-like head. So what I am saying, in essance, is that you just have to deal with it. HAH!
In other news, Behind the Scenes at the Museum is actually really quite good. It pretty much gets added to my own personal hall of book fame along with On The Road, Dear Miffy, and anything by Murakami or Kafka. So read it.
This weekend, thanks to a deposit of suplus monies from the flat account, I have been able to drink and eat, and most importaintly, buy panadol. I never used to rely on panadol for hangover cures, perferring rather to be stoic in the fact that the headaches and woozyness was somthing self inflicted and so I should roll with it, and I have even had, on occasion, hangovers that have been more enjoyable than the drinking it took to get them, but you cannot be productive during a hangover, ejoyable or not. So enter panadol, which gets rid of most of the symptoms of hangovers, and allows me to at least read books for classes. Wheather this discovery shall breed within me a new found desire to further my alcoholism by taking away any deterant or shall simply help me to become a better functioning member of society (all those mornings at work I have spent hungover! why didn't I pop a pill?) remains to be seen.
As you might be able to tell from reading this I am in a much better mood than I have been lately. I am on the up cycle of my by now sickenly familiar depression cycle, and so know that payment shall be extracted later, probably at about 9am tommorow. As you also might have noticed, I have been doing alot of this new-age emotional namby-pamby mental musing crap, but as I have noticed, it is actually uite helpful for me to be able to look back on my life in this form to see what has happened, becuase I simply cannot keep all that memory inside my sive-like head. So what I am saying, in essance, is that you just have to deal with it. HAH!
In other news, Behind the Scenes at the Museum is actually really quite good. It pretty much gets added to my own personal hall of book fame along with On The Road, Dear Miffy, and anything by Murakami or Kafka. So read it.
Friday, September 15, 2006
To yesterday and beyond! A great pile of Fish? Yes.
I am not feeling good.
Looking back in my blog, I can see that I also wasn't feeling good at this time last year. A seasonal thing, perhaps? No. Last year I had a reason for not feeling good. Me and my long distance girlfriend/ fiancee were having problems, prolems that resulted in our breaking up. Two years ago, I was engaged. A year later I became single. This year, I have been single for twelve months. Even so, this should not be a reason why my soul feels like it has been split in half. Honestly, I was feeling so bad today I almost threw up. Well, I have made an appointment with a doctor for Wednesday. Perhaps we can nip this in the but. Heres hoping.
People who read this have invited me around to thier houses at times during this weekend in an effort to cheer me up. People want me to live with them. Unfortunately, It looks like I might not be able to do any of these things. This week I have to read a novel. An actual novel, and then write an actual essay on it. The essay won't take long, as it is only a 200level, 1500 word essay, and so I will be able to do the actual writing in about four hours. The reading of the novel, however, is goig to take me at least two nights. And as for living with anyone, I simply want my own place next year. I don't care about the price. I don't care that I might go stir-crazy. I need to do this alone, to see if I can at all. Adn besides, I am sick now of all that organisation/ cleaning/ rent splitting hassels that happen when you live with someone else. I want to do it alone.
Work today was poo. So much poo. Nothing good there. I just hung around spacey like, as co-workers conversations washed around me like so much unwanted citris-cola, making me sticky and lime-smelling. Not very plesant, as you can imagine.
Tonight I plan to go home, get into be and read untill I fall asleap. But what wil probably happen is that I will play guitar for some indetremined portion of time before I open my book. Guitar is good for me. Good for my soul. I shall rign some people so as I can plan my weekend, eat some toast, and then collapse into bed. Smelly bed. Oh well.
I have ten dollars. $6.50 of that has to go to a friend who bought me a pizza. So I cannot even get myself a bottle of wine. Gahhhhhh...
Looking back in my blog, I can see that I also wasn't feeling good at this time last year. A seasonal thing, perhaps? No. Last year I had a reason for not feeling good. Me and my long distance girlfriend/ fiancee were having problems, prolems that resulted in our breaking up. Two years ago, I was engaged. A year later I became single. This year, I have been single for twelve months. Even so, this should not be a reason why my soul feels like it has been split in half. Honestly, I was feeling so bad today I almost threw up. Well, I have made an appointment with a doctor for Wednesday. Perhaps we can nip this in the but. Heres hoping.
People who read this have invited me around to thier houses at times during this weekend in an effort to cheer me up. People want me to live with them. Unfortunately, It looks like I might not be able to do any of these things. This week I have to read a novel. An actual novel, and then write an actual essay on it. The essay won't take long, as it is only a 200level, 1500 word essay, and so I will be able to do the actual writing in about four hours. The reading of the novel, however, is goig to take me at least two nights. And as for living with anyone, I simply want my own place next year. I don't care about the price. I don't care that I might go stir-crazy. I need to do this alone, to see if I can at all. Adn besides, I am sick now of all that organisation/ cleaning/ rent splitting hassels that happen when you live with someone else. I want to do it alone.
Work today was poo. So much poo. Nothing good there. I just hung around spacey like, as co-workers conversations washed around me like so much unwanted citris-cola, making me sticky and lime-smelling. Not very plesant, as you can imagine.
Tonight I plan to go home, get into be and read untill I fall asleap. But what wil probably happen is that I will play guitar for some indetremined portion of time before I open my book. Guitar is good for me. Good for my soul. I shall rign some people so as I can plan my weekend, eat some toast, and then collapse into bed. Smelly bed. Oh well.
I have ten dollars. $6.50 of that has to go to a friend who bought me a pizza. So I cannot even get myself a bottle of wine. Gahhhhhh...
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
URRGH! ARGUH! UH>> I DON"T KNOW!!!
I think the title of this post says it all. Bugger everything. Bugger it all to hell. Hell, where I hear, they are rather found of buggering. So it can get buggered some more.
Really, all sorts of crap is really annoying. Work. Studies. Uni. Other people. Thinking. Books. Money. Sleeping. Eating. Waking up in the morning. Walking. Women. Cooking. Carpets. Mess. Essays. ALL OF IT! But don't you worry. Although this might seem like a rather macarbe post, smoe things are going all right. Like... (insert title of post here!)
Oh, people are annoying. Especially at work.
Customer: "Hey how much does that cost?"
Me: "5.60. like it says on the sign."
C: Oh, ok. What sizes do you do?"
M: This size. Only one size, I'm afraid.
C: Oh. Then can I have a medium?
M: No. We only have this size. This size bowl. I fill up this bopwl with food.
C: Oh. Well how about I tell you when to stop? I am not that hungry.
M: Alright. *I start filling the bowl*
C: Ok, that enough (The bowl, at this stage, is pretty much full.) How much will that cost?
M: 5.60. Like it says on the sign. like I told you. Like the sign is also telling you. It costs 5.60."
The only reason I wasn't scolding/swearing at/eating the customers face off was because I hear you can get fired for that sort of thing, and I need my monies.
Or how about this delightful fellow?:
C: Hey, how long away is that burger that I ordered like two minutes ago because I am really hungry and I ordered a burger and like it isn't here yet and like you do fast food and I have class and stuff and you know I paid for my burger so you know it should like be given to me.
M: Yes. Your burger isn't here. Because we start cooking after you order. Thats what "Made to order" means. And since it is a chicken burger, I suggest you let us cook it, unless you like that really scrumptious taste of selmonella. As for you class, you should have thought about that before you ordered a meal 2 minutes before it started. Because, while it is true we are a fast food restruant, we are not a MAGICAL WE HAVE A MAGICAL FAIRY OUT BACK COOKING MAGICAL FOOD WITH HER MAGIC WAND MAGICAL food place.
As you can perhaps guess, I didn't actually say that. but I was this close. THIS FUCKING CLOSE!
Anyway. scrubs is on tonight. And since it is wednesday, that means I can drink my woes away. With alcohol. Sweet sweet anger numbing alcohol.
Really, all sorts of crap is really annoying. Work. Studies. Uni. Other people. Thinking. Books. Money. Sleeping. Eating. Waking up in the morning. Walking. Women. Cooking. Carpets. Mess. Essays. ALL OF IT! But don't you worry. Although this might seem like a rather macarbe post, smoe things are going all right. Like... (insert title of post here!)
Oh, people are annoying. Especially at work.
Customer: "Hey how much does that cost?"
Me: "5.60. like it says on the sign."
C: Oh, ok. What sizes do you do?"
M: This size. Only one size, I'm afraid.
C: Oh. Then can I have a medium?
M: No. We only have this size. This size bowl. I fill up this bopwl with food.
C: Oh. Well how about I tell you when to stop? I am not that hungry.
M: Alright. *I start filling the bowl*
C: Ok, that enough (The bowl, at this stage, is pretty much full.) How much will that cost?
M: 5.60. Like it says on the sign. like I told you. Like the sign is also telling you. It costs 5.60."
The only reason I wasn't scolding/swearing at/eating the customers face off was because I hear you can get fired for that sort of thing, and I need my monies.
Or how about this delightful fellow?:
C: Hey, how long away is that burger that I ordered like two minutes ago because I am really hungry and I ordered a burger and like it isn't here yet and like you do fast food and I have class and stuff and you know I paid for my burger so you know it should like be given to me.
M: Yes. Your burger isn't here. Because we start cooking after you order. Thats what "Made to order" means. And since it is a chicken burger, I suggest you let us cook it, unless you like that really scrumptious taste of selmonella. As for you class, you should have thought about that before you ordered a meal 2 minutes before it started. Because, while it is true we are a fast food restruant, we are not a MAGICAL WE HAVE A MAGICAL FAIRY OUT BACK COOKING MAGICAL FOOD WITH HER MAGIC WAND MAGICAL food place.
As you can perhaps guess, I didn't actually say that. but I was this close. THIS FUCKING CLOSE!
Anyway. scrubs is on tonight. And since it is wednesday, that means I can drink my woes away. With alcohol. Sweet sweet anger numbing alcohol.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Word Salad
Well, this has been a doozy of a weekend.
Start off by getting off of work, and trying everything to get my hands on some money. Student services, the food bank, hocking off food bank items to people, extorsion, even, *shudder*, Studylink.
"Hey there, I am in a bit of trouble. I need some money so I can get some meat to go with this bag of flour the food bank gave me. I heard you sometimes gave out food vouchers in dire situations."
"Well," Says Mr Studylink, "Why don't you have any money?"
"I don't have any work over the break. I tried to budget for this, but I fell a little short."
"Well, show me your bank statement."
I hand my bank statement over.
"Well, if you knew you were going to be off work for two weeks, you really should have gotten yourself another part time job to make up for the shortfall."
"Yes. Because two week long jobs grow on trees. Anyway, I just need $20."
"Yes, well, as I see it, you haven't exhausted every avenue. You could have sold an organ for money. But since you really need the money, I suppose if you can get me your tennancy agreement, your birth certificate, a signed note from your employer stating that you had no work for a week (that note needs to be verified by a JP, by the way) and a negative STI test then we can probably give you the money."
I hate you, studylink. So what I did was I did not pay my rent. It's ok, our flat account is far and above what it needs to be and I can make up the deficit before our next load of rent goes out. But still, I shouldn't have to resort to such matters. Services that are supposed to help people should, in fact, help. At least some of the time. Studylink is just bitter because we no longer have to pay them intrest on our loans. Well, boo hoo. Studylink also doesn't have to survive on caned Tuna.
After that disaster, Iwent to my friends flat to welcome their new flatmate. We had a few drinks and ended up at a twenty-first. Not alot happend there, I had a couple of cheap drinks and then we went back home. The next day I went to my other friends house where I was shanghied inside a car bound to Shannon.
If you aren't familiar with Shannon, you need to know that it is the one street hub of the rural district of Horowhenua, a distric concerend, like most of rural NZ, with sheep and rugby. The plan was to go and stay at a hotel in Shannon, pretty much for the fuck of it, and drink at the local bar, wake up in the morning, have pies at the very nice cafe there and then go back to Wellington. Unfortunately, things didn't go quite as planned. When we asked the hotel for a couple of rooms the hotel person said "URGNAH?" and banged her head on the bar repeatedly. Other patrons of the bar looked at us suspiciously and we backed away slowly so as not to entice them into what was only one broken jandal away from becoming a ruck.
So we went to Palmeston North. If you are not fammiliar with Palmeston North, you need to know that it is almost impossible to leave once you get into the tangle of it's flat streets with no land marks and that it's slogan is "STUDENT CITY". The sign with this slogan on it has a crude drawing of a Penis on it. We saw nobody around, and I ended up asleap in a friends place on a lounge chair after a few rousing games of drinking Jenga. The next day we went back to Shannon, and ate all the pies. (I had three. Between the five of us we had a total of ten pies.) And then we went back to Wellington, glad to have survived our ordeal and exdeedingly happy to see hills, buildings of note and people of culture.
I have only just gotten home. It has been one of those weekends where I just don't get back to my own bed. I have just been to see M. Night Shialaman's movie "The Lady in the Water." MNS's movies always sit in that little gray area for me between "Crap" and "Pretty Good" without passing through any of the imediatory steps.
In other news, I am finding that I am kinda in that grey area with my life. Things are really getting me down sometimes, and other times things are really really good. (Bet you didn't see this comming! Emotional rant after all that? What a mammoth post! Well, I don't have much else to do.) Having just 'asided' that I have nothing else to do, I have far to much to do. At the end of this week I have and assignment due, ditto with the start of next week. I have work. I have libary books that have to be returned. I have sleeping to do. Where the fuck am I supposed to fit in any kind of musing on existance and hopefully positive step taking to make sure I don't fall back into a pit of depression/ anxiety / stress from which there is no getting out of without a large ladder? People don't like that in your essays about Pope! And I don't own a ladder! Borrowing other peoples ladders takes time and patience and interation skills which I often find I simply do not have. So that is in part what this blog is for: expressing my emotions through horribly extended metaphors. I know it doesn't actually do any good long term, but it sure as fuck makes me feel better right now.
And right now I am going to go do some writting. All the ladder finding and /or essay writing can happen tommorow.
Start off by getting off of work, and trying everything to get my hands on some money. Student services, the food bank, hocking off food bank items to people, extorsion, even, *shudder*, Studylink.
"Hey there, I am in a bit of trouble. I need some money so I can get some meat to go with this bag of flour the food bank gave me. I heard you sometimes gave out food vouchers in dire situations."
"Well," Says Mr Studylink, "Why don't you have any money?"
"I don't have any work over the break. I tried to budget for this, but I fell a little short."
"Well, show me your bank statement."
I hand my bank statement over.
"Well, if you knew you were going to be off work for two weeks, you really should have gotten yourself another part time job to make up for the shortfall."
"Yes. Because two week long jobs grow on trees. Anyway, I just need $20."
"Yes, well, as I see it, you haven't exhausted every avenue. You could have sold an organ for money. But since you really need the money, I suppose if you can get me your tennancy agreement, your birth certificate, a signed note from your employer stating that you had no work for a week (that note needs to be verified by a JP, by the way) and a negative STI test then we can probably give you the money."
I hate you, studylink. So what I did was I did not pay my rent. It's ok, our flat account is far and above what it needs to be and I can make up the deficit before our next load of rent goes out. But still, I shouldn't have to resort to such matters. Services that are supposed to help people should, in fact, help. At least some of the time. Studylink is just bitter because we no longer have to pay them intrest on our loans. Well, boo hoo. Studylink also doesn't have to survive on caned Tuna.
After that disaster, Iwent to my friends flat to welcome their new flatmate. We had a few drinks and ended up at a twenty-first. Not alot happend there, I had a couple of cheap drinks and then we went back home. The next day I went to my other friends house where I was shanghied inside a car bound to Shannon.
If you aren't familiar with Shannon, you need to know that it is the one street hub of the rural district of Horowhenua, a distric concerend, like most of rural NZ, with sheep and rugby. The plan was to go and stay at a hotel in Shannon, pretty much for the fuck of it, and drink at the local bar, wake up in the morning, have pies at the very nice cafe there and then go back to Wellington. Unfortunately, things didn't go quite as planned. When we asked the hotel for a couple of rooms the hotel person said "URGNAH?" and banged her head on the bar repeatedly. Other patrons of the bar looked at us suspiciously and we backed away slowly so as not to entice them into what was only one broken jandal away from becoming a ruck.
So we went to Palmeston North. If you are not fammiliar with Palmeston North, you need to know that it is almost impossible to leave once you get into the tangle of it's flat streets with no land marks and that it's slogan is "STUDENT CITY". The sign with this slogan on it has a crude drawing of a Penis on it. We saw nobody around, and I ended up asleap in a friends place on a lounge chair after a few rousing games of drinking Jenga. The next day we went back to Shannon, and ate all the pies. (I had three. Between the five of us we had a total of ten pies.) And then we went back to Wellington, glad to have survived our ordeal and exdeedingly happy to see hills, buildings of note and people of culture.
I have only just gotten home. It has been one of those weekends where I just don't get back to my own bed. I have just been to see M. Night Shialaman's movie "The Lady in the Water." MNS's movies always sit in that little gray area for me between "Crap" and "Pretty Good" without passing through any of the imediatory steps.
In other news, I am finding that I am kinda in that grey area with my life. Things are really getting me down sometimes, and other times things are really really good. (Bet you didn't see this comming! Emotional rant after all that? What a mammoth post! Well, I don't have much else to do.) Having just 'asided' that I have nothing else to do, I have far to much to do. At the end of this week I have and assignment due, ditto with the start of next week. I have work. I have libary books that have to be returned. I have sleeping to do. Where the fuck am I supposed to fit in any kind of musing on existance and hopefully positive step taking to make sure I don't fall back into a pit of depression/ anxiety / stress from which there is no getting out of without a large ladder? People don't like that in your essays about Pope! And I don't own a ladder! Borrowing other peoples ladders takes time and patience and interation skills which I often find I simply do not have. So that is in part what this blog is for: expressing my emotions through horribly extended metaphors. I know it doesn't actually do any good long term, but it sure as fuck makes me feel better right now.
And right now I am going to go do some writting. All the ladder finding and /or essay writing can happen tommorow.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Too much dancing, not enough sleep.
Amn I hate my friends.
I go to their house to dirink wine and watch Scrubs on a TV that isn't all gay and fuzzy, andwhat happens? They force me into town, possibly with some kind of mind control device, in my work uniform, as I had not been home to change, gave me red bull, which unleashes my beast, and turned me loose inside the Big Kumera.
Even when they went home they made me stay. I got home at 3:30am. I have had three hourse sleep. I, surprisingly, don't feel that bad. But I only had one bottle of wine.
So yes, the moral of the story is "Don't Trust Your Friends." Because they make you do things.
I go to their house to dirink wine and watch Scrubs on a TV that isn't all gay and fuzzy, andwhat happens? They force me into town, possibly with some kind of mind control device, in my work uniform, as I had not been home to change, gave me red bull, which unleashes my beast, and turned me loose inside the Big Kumera.
Even when they went home they made me stay. I got home at 3:30am. I have had three hourse sleep. I, surprisingly, don't feel that bad. But I only had one bottle of wine.
So yes, the moral of the story is "Don't Trust Your Friends." Because they make you do things.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Well, that was unexpected...
http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,20349560-661,00.html
Yes, thats right, Steve Irwin, the Crocidile Hunter, is dead. Imagine that. A man builds up his reputation by wrestling crocodiles and dangerous snakes, dangerous animals that no sane peron would touch with a pole on fear of death, then gets killed by a sting-ray. How very, very unfortunate. A sting-ray, for fucks sake! Really makes you think, don't it? You, as a person, invincible in everyday life, God of your destiny, you feel good and healthy, and then WHAM! Outta left feild come the Reaper, bearing not the expected scythe, but a bag of rice, and chokes you with it.
Really, sometimes life is bloody strange.
In other news, there is a strange ticking noise in my room. Either my clock, which has been without a battery for the last half year suddenly started working under its own steam, or someone planted a bomb in my room while I was away. I am guessing the latter.
Yes, thats right, Steve Irwin, the Crocidile Hunter, is dead. Imagine that. A man builds up his reputation by wrestling crocodiles and dangerous snakes, dangerous animals that no sane peron would touch with a pole on fear of death, then gets killed by a sting-ray. How very, very unfortunate. A sting-ray, for fucks sake! Really makes you think, don't it? You, as a person, invincible in everyday life, God of your destiny, you feel good and healthy, and then WHAM! Outta left feild come the Reaper, bearing not the expected scythe, but a bag of rice, and chokes you with it.
Really, sometimes life is bloody strange.
In other news, there is a strange ticking noise in my room. Either my clock, which has been without a battery for the last half year suddenly started working under its own steam, or someone planted a bomb in my room while I was away. I am guessing the latter.
Oh, the horror!
Had work this morning. Had a tutorial. Both were not particulaly good. I guess I just have to get back into the swing of things.
I seem to have developed a twitch in my right eye.
Well, I got back an essay today, and I got an A for it, so I suppose that isn't too bad. But there is so much crap I have to do soon. And I just don't want to do it. I want to stay in bed. Forever. Damn this outside world and all the things that I have to do in it. Except band practice, which I have tommorow. I have been looking forward to that some good yes. I have been woprking on new material, and cannot wait until our next gig, whenever that might be.
But since I have to wait, I would rather be waiting in bed. Its warm, yet smelly, comfortable yet a mess. I keep on waking up at night thinking I am back home. But I am not. Soon I have to go flat hunting. AGAIN. I hate flat hunting. and I have to get a licence. And a scooter. And I have to save some money. And I have no money at the moment.
Whine whine moan bitch. Yep. Goddamn.
I seem to have developed a twitch in my right eye.
Well, I got back an essay today, and I got an A for it, so I suppose that isn't too bad. But there is so much crap I have to do soon. And I just don't want to do it. I want to stay in bed. Forever. Damn this outside world and all the things that I have to do in it. Except band practice, which I have tommorow. I have been looking forward to that some good yes. I have been woprking on new material, and cannot wait until our next gig, whenever that might be.
But since I have to wait, I would rather be waiting in bed. Its warm, yet smelly, comfortable yet a mess. I keep on waking up at night thinking I am back home. But I am not. Soon I have to go flat hunting. AGAIN. I hate flat hunting. and I have to get a licence. And a scooter. And I have to save some money. And I have no money at the moment.
Whine whine moan bitch. Yep. Goddamn.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Going, going, gone .
In two hours I go back to Wellington. This holiday has been much too short, damn it! I haven't done nearly enough sleeping, eating, cartooning or reading for pleasure as I want t odo. Seriously, where do you fit it all in? So yes, I will arrive in our countries capital at around 9pm tonight, and the rest of this weekend will be devoted to preparing myself metally for the rigors of work and the second half of the trimester.
Preparing it with booze.
Becuase i haven't been drunk since I left Auckland. I have been detoxing this week. Now booze, no cigarettes, and let me tell you something, I am looking forward to putting some alcohol and nicotine, a cocktail i like to call 'alcotine', back into my system. i might even get some Roti Chennai.
But still. Work. Sigh.
Preparing it with booze.
Becuase i haven't been drunk since I left Auckland. I have been detoxing this week. Now booze, no cigarettes, and let me tell you something, I am looking forward to putting some alcohol and nicotine, a cocktail i like to call 'alcotine', back into my system. i might even get some Roti Chennai.
But still. Work. Sigh.
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