Scribbled Thoughts from a Long Weekend

*Ripped directly from my notepad when I got in today*

This is the first time I've been sober in about 3 days now. I'm writing this down old school style, on a notepad that I brought with me in a flight of madness. This will go up in the blog later, but for now le me trace my steps to find out how I got here.

Thursday

A long tiring day at work. Nothing but standard stuff, but man, the day dragged on and on, and was made even worse by how tired I was. Anyway, directly from work, I wind up at the Ivory Rooms, celebrating my sister's 18th birthday, about ten days before it actually takes place. Surrounded by teenagers and parents, I decide to drink to power through. Entirely fucked, I go to bed at 1am.

Friday

I wake up in a haze of terror realising three things simultaneously:

1. I need to be on the train to work in ten minutes
2. I need to put together a weekend survival kit for my trip to Nottingham in the evening.
3. I cannot find any underpants.

I solve this with incredible alacrity and roll into work five minutes early, looking horrifying, and spend much of the morning attempting not to throw up on anything valuable. At lunch with a friend, I get a steak and wash it down with three pints in an attempt to get my head right again. The afternoon passes by in a blur of Facebook, music and boredom. Post work, I plant myself on the train to Nottingham with my copy of Good Omens and listen to Glee, the two bits of pop culture blending together quite nicely. After I arrive, plans are formed, booze is bought and we attend a house party and meet a girl called Ousome Georgia, pronounced "AWESOME GEORGIA" and repeatedly inform her just how awesome her name is. We also see several male poledancers.

Saturday

I wake up with Mike gently spooning me and declare immediately that we must go to the pub. We visit the local, eat a great deal of meet while watching football and drinking beer, declaring loudly that we are true men. We move on to Nottingham SU, and I lose spectacularly at pool while drinking very heavily. At one point, friend of The Useless Ambition, James Turner turns up to drink with us. He has j2o, and many slanderous things are suggested, concerning his homosexual leanings, minuscule penis and incredibly gay car. Then he drives us to buy more booze and these criticisms vanish into the ether. James leaves shortly after depositing us back at Mike's place, leaving us with nothing but a crate of beer and a solid sense of goodness in the world.

After much more drinking, we head to town, hitting up Nottingham Trent's uni club, on the basis that the male to female ratio is approximately 1-5. I amaze Mike and his flatmates with my display of my magnificent flirt ray powers on the local ladies, and make spurious claims about Mike's dancing abilities on the public display text screen. It's a good night, and a good club, and, much later, we return to Mike's buying phenomenal kebabs and sit up until 5am, watching crappy TV and setting the world to rights.

Sunday

We wake up to Ozzy Osbourne singing 'Stayin' Alive'. We head into town planning our futures (a company that delivers fry-ups door to door, with a pre-night ordering service) Our millionaire status assured, we break fast in Subway and have a quick half before parting ways at the station. About half an hour into the trip we are informed that the train in front has broken down, and so we're being diverted in some incredibly circuitous route around the country. It's at this point my phone runs out of power, and I start writing some absolute garbage to avoid conversation with the ginger beardy bloke next to me.

Yes, YOU.

Stop reading over my shoulder.

Weirdo.