Then I woke up at 6am and saw Death with a bottle of Jaegermeister inviting to sit on his lap for a bit. I declined the offer and he left me with a complimentary headache, sore eyes and what I'm pretty sure was an enormous moth with a brick tied to it's ankle frigging about inside my stomach. I wish I'd just said yes.
Three drinks and I'm out.
How does that happen?
Maybe I should have eaten more... but my boss told me I was becoming a bit of a fatty the other day.
I just got told today I am not going to be a mailroom clerk too. I feel ruined, RUINED, rooned.
Yeah, oh woe is me etc.
But really, what else is this for?
This afternoon, Luke, dragging me by the elbow along Sydney Rd to a cosy lunch at Thom Phat that would only distract me from my cold bath in hung-over misery, I thought, "Death, come back, give me a hug and let me wallow with you." And you know what, I thought he just might, but then Luke gave me a hug and my Pad Thai arrived.
4 comments:
don't worry, death will come back to visit... he has a habbit of popping up more and more frequently once he's come once... just hold in there for the hold out kiddo...
(don't know why i called you kiddo, but it'll do)
hehe...
x
you got me too i am rooned
Who on earth is this hideous boss of yours? They sound ripe for a kicking.
That's happened to me at the Yacht Club too... Were you drinking Moulin Rouges?
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