Partying, partying, YEAH.
It's acceptable to drink on a Friday evening, however much you might have had during the week, that's a given. It's a fucking given and even my mother said I should go out on a Friday and her word is fucking law.
I went to the pub and sat with the old chap and I can't remember what we talked about but I remember having a nice time. I sat with some girls after and they were lovely but I felt so fucking old it was unreal. I'm not old. I don't think I'm old yet. I just have to limit myself to a certain number of pints otherwise I wake up vomiting in the middle of the night and that is a grim outcome for everyone. Sick all over the cunting bed, and it's only me in there.
Some of the girls were my age, they went to my school, ages ago now. I shouldn't be calling them girls, they're ladies. They said, 'what are you doing now?' I said I'm a teaching assistant. They said, 'oh, but you were so clever.' Somehow I've even managed to disappoint people I hardly know.
I'm so tired. I'm so cold. What a fucking waste of time every evening is. I don't know why I bother anymore.
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