As may have slipped your attention (not likely as I keep going on about it), I haven't been drinking. Barring the night when I drank all those mojitos. And when I went to the pub with #1. And on Tuesday when I went to Soho. But I haven't been drinking much. Yesterday was my last day at work - which was fun actually and I'll write about it later (I didn't win the prize due to an 'incident') - and so after work I went out for some drinks. Obviously I didn't have any dinner, though I had made some flapjacks and some chocolate cornflake cakes. Went to the Roxy and everyone bought me wine. I then proceeded to:
- show everyone my toerings
- tell everyone that my colleague does drugs
- talk AT LENGTH about The L Word
- announce that I thought the ideal person would be the love child of Girls Aloud and Justin Timberlake.
- sing "I just wanna love you baby" in a comedy Justin Timberlake way
- tell a colleague about my disastrous relationship history and a whole load of stuff I shouldn't have said
- go on AT LENGTH about how the man from HR had texted me
- announce that I wanted a menagerie of boyfriends in front of the boy who I think thinks that he is my boyfriend
- decide to go to Soho
- wander around town for ages feeling sulky
- call S and be an arsehole to her
- have a fight and tell the boy not to bother coming back to mine
- get on bus anyway and let him sleep leaning against my shoulder
On the bus I felt really flaky and thought meh drinking. I woke up at least one of my housemates and then spent all night being really hot and getting annoyed with the boy for trying to have sex with me at some ungodly hour.
Today I feel ropey. I have sent an apology text to S. I'm listening to Justin Timberlake at home and eating the remains of some squashed cornflake cakes. I think my insides have liquified. I went to the doctors and she was like yeah your blood is funny and why do you have sunglasses on, and I said meh fix my life please.
I'm going to go and find something nutritious to eat and then read trashy magazines all day.
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