My Weekend, Bitch

This weekend blew like a bad blowjob.

Let's just, get that all cleared up - although Saturday night showed 'promise'. Let's start from the beginning. Did nothing on Friday night except for sit on the couch on watch "The O.C.". I'm not going to lie and say I went to the clubs, although I should for an improved reputation, but honestly I watched TV and ate cereal. And by ate, I mean gorged - I had half a fucking box of Fruit Loops. They must be less healthy than a can of coke, which I had also now that I think of it. Holy slut what happened to my health overhaul? Well I guess, except for that night, I've been very good. Least the can of coke was diet. Oh wait. That's supposedly "worse" and gives me brain cancer? Fuck sake. Can't win either-way. Where's a tanning bed?

Saturday at work wasn't too bad I don't think, didn't drag as it does occasionally and actually the end of the day come up real quick. There's a sale this weekend (try and believe it) so that means I'll be working until 6pm 'stead of 5pm. What... a way to earn a dollar. Or $12.75 to be exact (aka. NZ minimum wage; brutal). Tom Ashley, the future Lance Armstrong (that's the Tour de France winner, right - anyway, trust me), had his 18th party at Sam Ellis' house and Nick Pittar gave me and Oscar a ride to the party. Well as usual I was pessimistic and doubting the possibility of enjoyment, an unfortunate trait I NEED to drop - not sure why I picked up such a bad attitude. Guess it's just a culmination of things in life. Is that the right time to use the word? Well in my book it is, and let's face it, this is my book/blog/whatever. Anyway I managed to get hold of some alcohol (thanks Natalie & Rianna! Shame on you Alice/Becca who promised me drinks for massages, which I gave! Actually I did get some of Becca's vodka, nevermind. Just Alice who needs shame!)

Managed to get semi-drunk, which sounds so pathetic and a year ago I would have been like "Ugh so desperate." but I guess it's one of those things that you really just need to fuck off about until you've tried it at like a party cause it's FUN. Just not fun when you get too carried away, but if you can handle your drink & know when to stop, which I do, it is fun! The morning's are never fun, let's get that shit out of the way. But for a good time, sacrifices must be made - like everything. Well actually, most things are miserable in the first place. What am I talking about?

Anyway Sunday I felt pretty OK, just tired - like I said, hadn't drunken much and Nick was Oscar & I's sober driver which was very kind of him. We had to be back at like 1am which is FUCKING early for a so-called "raging party", but I guess I should be grateful I even managed to get out there. Stage Challenge on Sunday which I had to bike too, was supposed to bike with Oscar but he was so fucking late I was halfway there by the time he got dropped off like 3/4's of the way there and biked the rest of the way there. 3 hours of practice, probably utilised like 1 hour of that & wasted the rest. Was SO tired. Plus there's a bit where I lift Oscar on my back and when he jumped down he landed on the back of my ankle and it hurt like a motherfucker. I'm still yelping about it. (not literally) It bruised hardcore within like 2-3 minutes, so it was more than you're average knock. Telling you now! I can't sleep straight.

FUCK. It's 10.17pm, I need to go & get ready for bed.