Thursday, January 25, 2007
Falling out of my skin. On Tuesday, while we were at the pub, Amanda informed me that she had a photograph of me on Friday night, in which I appeared so drunk as to be "falling out of your skin". Would you like to see this photograph? I knew you'd say yes.
I was not actually this dishevelled - I was pulling my hair over my eyes and looking through my lashes in an ultimately failed attempt to impersonate an emo. I remarked to Amanda that the final effect is probably more Oliver Reed.
But when I mentioned this, Amanda did a Google image search and found a photo of Reed from some Hammer Horror film he made where he was a werewolf...
In that spirit, here's a picture of me hanging out with the internet on Friday night.
I really need to watch my drinking. As any reader of this blog will realise, I am a complete lush, but I don't think I've ever been so bad as last Friday. It's not just that I couldn't remember things afterwards - Sandor informed me today that I was even experiencing memory loss at the time- three minutes after a topic was mentioned I would bring it up again. More alarmingly, after my dinner with the internet last night, I was informed by one of my manboob-groping victims that I had actually asked to feel him up in order to ascertain his bro (or man-siere) size! (I had declared him to be an A-cup.)
This turn of events mortified me.
Alcohol is such a large part of my life that I am not really sure how to phase it out. Check out the sight that greeted me in the bathroom this morning, when I was towelling myself off and happened to glance up at the top of the shower, where we keep the bottles of shampoo etc.
I swear I did not put that bottle there. I figure one of my housemates must have absentmindedly left it there when they went to the loo. Or perhaps they are washing their hair with beer. (I hear that beer makes your hair very shiny.) But it was a wakeup call for me. As any reader of this blog will know, I am a complete lush; but I don't want to be a shambolic object of pity, and I have a rather pettish desire not to be predictable.
The dinner with the internet went quite well. They are a very nice bunch of people and I would like to befriend them. It is so hard, though, to befriend people deliberately when you are an adult. As a child, you'd just invite them over to play after school. Now, I tend to invite people out to a bar to play after work.
I was not actually this dishevelled - I was pulling my hair over my eyes and looking through my lashes in an ultimately failed attempt to impersonate an emo. I remarked to Amanda that the final effect is probably more Oliver Reed.
But when I mentioned this, Amanda did a Google image search and found a photo of Reed from some Hammer Horror film he made where he was a werewolf...
In that spirit, here's a picture of me hanging out with the internet on Friday night.
I really need to watch my drinking. As any reader of this blog will realise, I am a complete lush, but I don't think I've ever been so bad as last Friday. It's not just that I couldn't remember things afterwards - Sandor informed me today that I was even experiencing memory loss at the time- three minutes after a topic was mentioned I would bring it up again. More alarmingly, after my dinner with the internet last night, I was informed by one of my manboob-groping victims that I had actually asked to feel him up in order to ascertain his bro (or man-siere) size! (I had declared him to be an A-cup.)
This turn of events mortified me.
Alcohol is such a large part of my life that I am not really sure how to phase it out. Check out the sight that greeted me in the bathroom this morning, when I was towelling myself off and happened to glance up at the top of the shower, where we keep the bottles of shampoo etc.
I swear I did not put that bottle there. I figure one of my housemates must have absentmindedly left it there when they went to the loo. Or perhaps they are washing their hair with beer. (I hear that beer makes your hair very shiny.) But it was a wakeup call for me. As any reader of this blog will know, I am a complete lush; but I don't want to be a shambolic object of pity, and I have a rather pettish desire not to be predictable.
The dinner with the internet went quite well. They are a very nice bunch of people and I would like to befriend them. It is so hard, though, to befriend people deliberately when you are an adult. As a child, you'd just invite them over to play after school. Now, I tend to invite people out to a bar to play after work.
