Well, that was eventful.
Hogmanay I finished work, found that everyone had fucked off to the pub without so much as a look-in, and went home (not in the best of moods). In Flatypants by 7.10, on third drink by 7.30. Spoke to Mel and Emma, saw Kerry and Caroline just as I was leaving (Caroline had that wide-eyed look of fancyness, so it was maybe a shame I left).
Went into West Kirk, met Jayjay’s new man and Pete (a girl called Laura. McLeod named her Pete. No, I don’t know either) and a cute girl whose name I can’t remember. I think people were trying to set me up with said cute girl for most of the night; either that or she fancied me and I fucked up by being cautious.
Don’t remember the bells. Stella.
Think I kissed one of the girls on the lips when we left. Can’t remember which one. [edit: yes I can.] Can’t remember much, basically.
Next night, Flanagans with bro. Met Jill. She’s put on some weight, was just as irritatingly pathetic as usual and had friends with her who didn’t say a word in two hours. Fuck ‘em.
2nd, started drinking at 3pm. Stopped, had a chinky (chopsticks is back! woo!) and had a lickle snooze. Got back up, had some more beer (still no Stella) and some irish stuff, went into town, had a Stella shoved down my throat and puked for the first time in at least six months outside Smiths. Went and saw Westwood, met Fraser’s sister, pulled one of her and Steph’s friends. For about a minute, before she went weird. Bah. Still a pull, mojo still working.
Got up today, scooshed a good mouthful of whipped cream down my throat, only to find it was rum-enhanced. Eeeee. Finally got up here and spent the entire night on IRC and talking to ellie about her depression. The girl doesn’t deserve to be depressed, despite any feelings I’ve got. But I can’t do anything about it. Frustration is a bitch.
I’m calm and easy. Feeling good about this year. Just got some debt control to get on with.
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