I was sitting in my brother's apt, talking with my friends via the internet (forget about using the phone... that wasnt possible), making sure everyone was ok and freaking out to no end while watching cnn. It was a week after then that i was like "i must live life as if tomorrow is my last." and so the alcohol/party/losing the plot problem began. I've had fun. But tomorrow wont be my last day alive, so it's time to put the drink down. Time to go to bed before 4am. Time to chill the fuck out.
Right. So anyway, last night i went to see Jet and 22-20s. Both were really great. I've seen Jet before, and I didnt like them, but last night I had such a great time. I dont know if it's only because of the gigantic british man infront of me who was the closest thing a guy like him could be to being a 22-20s groupie, or if i actually liked their songs (one of Jet's songs sounded exactly like "Lust for Life" by Iggy, and I kept on thinking that they were going to start playing it so i could run around the audience like Renton being chased from the cops...). Instead I just bounced around, getting sweaty, and screaming. I managed to not drink a drop of ze ol' booze last night. Despite being pressured into drinking by one of my friends, i managed to stay away. Leave me alone you fucking barley or whatever the fuck it is that makes you make me be the way i get. Needless to say, this morning on my way to work i started plotting for the weekend... a bottle of your finest pinkest wine, please.
Oh, and my egg&cheese on a roll had an after taste of bacon. Fucking hell that's nasty. How do you people eat that? I haven't had to puke so badly since... since... since saturday night when i lost the plot.
Today I'm going to voluenteer at a soup kitchen. If i ever leave the office. Should be fun. I like people.