In Which I Vow Never to Do That Again

Good Christ almighty, it was just brought to my attention by L how many mistakes I made in that last blog, most of which have now been mercilessly eradicated. If there's a moral there, it's that I shouldn't rush these bastards in an effort to write one every day- quality, not quantity, etcetera. This sounds like some sort of terrible excuse to start being lazy and never write them again, but I was genuinely shocked by how much I've bollocksed it up. No more daily blogging or at least no more rule that I have to write something every day, because eventually I will start dribbling turds out of my fingers and onto the screen. Perhaps I've already started, which would be a shame- there's enough of that shit on the internet already.

Right, so. P, J, R, J and I went to see a band somewhere. I say see, I am not sure if I could see at that point. R has a Romanian associate who distills his own moonshine out of something- potatoes, berries, benzine, who knows? Anyway, the first measure of this stuff actually caused me to scream like a little bitch. I did go back for seconds, thirds and fourths, mind, which not everyone did and SOMEONE wandered off to vomit. It did actually taste nice, mind. The moonshine, not the vomit. We'd seen this band once before- just after England had lucked their way to beat Sweden in June in the Euros, and we were in the roughest pub in Colchester. Due to idiocy, I was dressed as England legend and defaecator of pop music Chris Waddle. I say dressed as, all I'd have to do is bung on a 1990 football top and some shorts, and that's a little too lazy for my tastes. I decided to have P, who seems to be very good in the field of hairdressing for reasons I have yet to ascertain, give me an actual proper mullet. This was all in the name of shits and giggles, and all the vicious bastards at this dive seemed to realise that because I had a mullet, I was already in the worst state I could be and that punching me might improve me somehow.

It couldn't get any worse than this.

I only had that haircut for 18 hours. Still, that was then. I still looked like an idiot on Friday because of that bet I had with R. I cannot remember why I made the bet that I'd have a Rickman beard, especially seeing as R had no such forfeit imposed upon him. But a drunken bet is a drunken bet, and my memory remembers those better than it does what Alan Rickman's topiary arrangements in 1991 blockbusters were. I should probably cut my brain out with a spoon. As it is, I possess what citizens of the U.S might call a douchebag beard. I think it looks a bit French, so it almost undoubtedly IS a douchebag beard. Despite all that, I did manage to get some positive female attention from girls that weren't hideous, which is always a plus. One of them even went as far as to tell me I had beautiful eyes. Several times. I have a sneaking suspicion that the moonshine may have been causing the aurora borealis to occur in them.

I am a little shady as to what happened after that. I know that more drinking was involved, and I know that P and I walked back arm in arm to J's with P telling me what a stand up guy I am, and I was enthusiastically agreeing with him. I suspect there was some singing of Beatles' songs after that, and I seem to have accumulated a plectrum despite not playing the guitar. The next morning R, P and I wandered around a park having a nice chat. I probably would normally have felt angry at past me for inflicting a hangover on present me and curled up in a ball to try and sleep more, but yesterday was an exception. It was probably the last nice day of the year one could walk around with only a t-shirt on and not convulse from the cold in the manner of a taser victim. Moreover, it might be the last time I spend with R for a year- he's off to Canada to speak in an accent he doesn't possess to have lots of sex with girls who don't know any better, and also to get a spot of snowboarding instructing or something in. I don't know, I wasn't really listening. Anyway, I hope he fails and is forced to return early for I shall miss him dearly.

Today's Tune