Hi!
In spirit with my attempts to separate good event's from negative I've put this one as an entry of it's own. For most people at the wedding it was a dark and tragic sub-plot that we managed to keep from Eric and Crystal as much as possible. I'm really struggling to keep trying to help the guy. He throws every attempt back in my face and clearly doesn't think I have anything worth saying. He also obviously doesn't give a fuck how I feel because he hurts me everytime I see him.
Let's flash back to the previous post. I picked up Lenny just before 1pm, and he was happy, bright and looking forward to the day. Fingers crossed nothing goes wrong. I should have crossed my toes as well....
To put this into a context let's look at what's happened since March. I'd feel like a hypocrite if I comment on previous actions as I wasn't an angel either. Mind you, even when I was having problems I thought he was a mess.
Three birthday's out in March/April. On the first two he displayed his standard incoherent drunkeness which was complimented beautifully by the predatory moves around nightclubs trying to pull any woman present. This usually involves several laps of the club so he get's two or three attempts at each lady. When people are looking at you with disgust because you're his friend it's not fun. People were leaving the club to get away. He was being pushed aside and told to stay away from groups of girls as he was ruining their night. Essentially a sex pest. He also fell over a few times, and argued with me when I tried to take him home. In the end I just left him in town. I felt bad, but I was new at the not drinking and didn't really need that shit. I gave him an hour but when he started screaming at me after I suggested that going to another club was a bad idea I'd had enough....
He was cancelled for birthday number three...... I'm sure he learnt from this exclusion.
Next time we went out he was smashed again. I've been trying to put my finger on why this is. Does he drink before he comes out? Does he not eat? Maybe he get's extra drinks or sneaks shots at the bar. I know all the tricks from bitter experience. Maybe he just can't hold it and doesn't know his limits. It can't be fun staggering around on your own with that look on your face. This look is hard to describe. It's a bit sad, and confused as well as frustrated and self hating. You can almost hear him saying to himself after yet another failed attempt at social interaction "Well, you fucked that one up again, you idiot. When will you ever get it right?? Why I outta...". I always imagine his inner monologue sounds like a Marx Brothers sketch.
Long story short. Hammered, starting the moves when he meets a middle aged couple at the bar. He's left with them in 20 mins. Apparently the deal is that this guy just like watching people screw his wife. I can't judge what people are into but I'm fairly confident that a sober Lenny would have thought this to be a bad idea.
You heard about the last wedding - drunk, staggering and generally same old, same old, same old.
Stag do the same. Lashed by eight pm, falling asleep in his dinner and then spent two and a half hours trying to get into a pub, not a youth hostel. As you can imagine I was not looking forward to what the night may bring. I hate to say it but it's now a joke. The question isn't "Will Lenny get pissed and do something stupid?". It's now "When will Lenny get pissed and do something stupid?".
This time it took until the end of the speeches. The table was dry of wine and not many people had drunk any. He was staggering by 7.30, and barely coherent. Our mate cut him off from the booze, and stuck him on water. You can still minesweep tables for glasses of wine. An accidental pint of cider ordered was downed in one. He really doesn't help himself at times.I don't want to go into details because it's really embarrassing. Crying, arguing, falling over, inappropriate behavior towards women, denial, vomitting and a couple of scuffles ensued before he was finally spooned into a cab. For once it wasn't just me dealing with it, as everyone took a shift. Finally they realise what's being going on.
Now it looks like he's cancelled from all social engagements for the forseable future. He makes me so angry. He won't listen. He can't see that he may have a problem. Apparently he thinks that just because I'm an alcoholic I need to brand him one too as some kind of cathartic exercise. He won't even get his bloods checked in case he's damaging himself. Now he isn't answering his phone. I've called round his house a few times in the last couple of days. If he's not at work tomorrow I'll have to call him mum. You know had bad it has to be before you call someones mum. Not ideal!
I'm not giving up on him, but I am giving up hope that I'll be able to help him. I found out the hard way. You have to accept there's a problem and you have to help yourself.
Sad times. I hope I didn't hurt people as much as this is hurting me. If I did I'm amazed they still talk to me.
Laters,
R***
Monday 27 August 2012
Nice day for a Wet Wedding
Hi all,
As I've mentioned previously, this weekend my friends Eric and Crystal got married. It's been a nervous couple of months. Sitting next to Eric at work I have had hourly updates on the difficulties of obtaining trailer fridges, bunting and the inherent problems associated with organising a wedding yourselves. Then in the last week BBC weather has been checked constantly with an increasing sense of foreboding. Saturday - intermittent dull weather interspersed with pissing rain by the trough. I was surprised to see that on the BBC but at least they are honest.
A few of us were camping over and the tents were set up by Bob and Snr Boudoir on Friday as I couldn't get time off work (we work in a small team and Eric was on holiday - selfish git!) so when the big day came all was good. Up early, shaved, and started to get ready. Once again I was driving so I went to get Lenny en route to the church. He was looking smart, happy (sober) and he was really looking forward to the day, as was I. It took a while to drive the 3 miles to his place as even with the wipers on full, visability was about 20 metres. Not ideal.
The rain broke as we got to the church and we did the usual hanging around bit until it was time to go in, and then we took our seats. I'd seen a lot of my baby sisters friends outside, which is always a bit strange. If she hadn't moved abroad she would probably been invited too. Odd. Then again, if she hadn't emigrated I wouldn't get cheap holidays, so you win some lose some (only joking sis).
Eric was looking excited, as you can imagine. Then the moment came and his bride entered the church, flanked by the bridesmaids and 836 flower girls. I guess when you ask one you kind of have to ask all. She looked stunning, and so pleased to be there. There were no nerves from either of them - this was just the way it was meant to be. Beautiful. Eric's gran is a priest so she conducted the service, which was also cool. She's around 80 so had complete license to improvise/make things up and this made it even more personal. Apparently she confessed in the rehersal "you know, I haven't done one of these for a while". It was really moving and intimate. Not many people have their gran encouraging them to join bodies in the bliss of sexual union, but sometimes you have to roll with these things.
You could hear the rain outside during the service but it stopped again in time for the photo's and trip to the reception. It was on a working farm in the country so it was quite special. The aroma was definitely a feature. Luckily I've smoked for decades so have no sense of smell. The rain recommenced once everyone had arrived but in some ways this helped bring everyone together. No one could wander off so everyone was thrown together in an open sided barn and people just started chatting. It was really friendly and at least we all had something to talk about. The ice was broken and then we went in for the meal.
It was a great buffet; king prawns, salmon, roast beef, gammon, cheese, amazing salads, chutneys, pies and probably loads more I've forgotten........ The family had all pitched in under the direction of a cousin (chef) and it all worked beautifully. To be honest I was started to fall asleep when the speeches started. I had the classic "eaten to much at a wedding, and feel a bit sicky" problem. Everyone else was caning the wine and then the champagne arrived. I don't know if it's cheating but I had a sip after each speech. It feels like I should do. I don't even like champagne.....
Eric and his brother gave brilliant speeches. They were personal, moving and uplifting, whilst sensitive too. The moment I was dreading was the absent friends part. Eric's father passed away some years ago and my eyes were watering as we got near that point. He came through it with a lot of class. It was obvious he was struggling and I hope he sensed everyone willing him on. He just stopped and said, "Well, enough about that. Let's move on". He's a brave man, and I'm proud to know him. He's also married a legend of a girl. I hope they'll be very happy.
The evening carried on and the band started. Fuelled by happiness and red bull we all hit the dancefloor until the early hours. It's always good to throw some shapes, although I thought his gran wasn't putting her all into it. Not wishing to criticise, but someone needed to say it.
All in all it was a great evening. Dancing, laughing and chatting. It was cool to be introduced to the wives of the guys who went on the stag. "M*****? I've heard all about you!!" The accompanying smile and subsequent conversations revealed that they'd heard we'd had a great time, and that I wasn't a nob. This may not sound much to you but it's a big step up from a year ago for me.
Great day. Great people. So glad to have been invited.
Good luck guys, but I don't think you'll need it.
Laters,
R***
As I've mentioned previously, this weekend my friends Eric and Crystal got married. It's been a nervous couple of months. Sitting next to Eric at work I have had hourly updates on the difficulties of obtaining trailer fridges, bunting and the inherent problems associated with organising a wedding yourselves. Then in the last week BBC weather has been checked constantly with an increasing sense of foreboding. Saturday - intermittent dull weather interspersed with pissing rain by the trough. I was surprised to see that on the BBC but at least they are honest.
A few of us were camping over and the tents were set up by Bob and Snr Boudoir on Friday as I couldn't get time off work (we work in a small team and Eric was on holiday - selfish git!) so when the big day came all was good. Up early, shaved, and started to get ready. Once again I was driving so I went to get Lenny en route to the church. He was looking smart, happy (sober) and he was really looking forward to the day, as was I. It took a while to drive the 3 miles to his place as even with the wipers on full, visability was about 20 metres. Not ideal.
The rain broke as we got to the church and we did the usual hanging around bit until it was time to go in, and then we took our seats. I'd seen a lot of my baby sisters friends outside, which is always a bit strange. If she hadn't moved abroad she would probably been invited too. Odd. Then again, if she hadn't emigrated I wouldn't get cheap holidays, so you win some lose some (only joking sis).
Eric was looking excited, as you can imagine. Then the moment came and his bride entered the church, flanked by the bridesmaids and 836 flower girls. I guess when you ask one you kind of have to ask all. She looked stunning, and so pleased to be there. There were no nerves from either of them - this was just the way it was meant to be. Beautiful. Eric's gran is a priest so she conducted the service, which was also cool. She's around 80 so had complete license to improvise/make things up and this made it even more personal. Apparently she confessed in the rehersal "you know, I haven't done one of these for a while". It was really moving and intimate. Not many people have their gran encouraging them to join bodies in the bliss of sexual union, but sometimes you have to roll with these things.
You could hear the rain outside during the service but it stopped again in time for the photo's and trip to the reception. It was on a working farm in the country so it was quite special. The aroma was definitely a feature. Luckily I've smoked for decades so have no sense of smell. The rain recommenced once everyone had arrived but in some ways this helped bring everyone together. No one could wander off so everyone was thrown together in an open sided barn and people just started chatting. It was really friendly and at least we all had something to talk about. The ice was broken and then we went in for the meal.
It was a great buffet; king prawns, salmon, roast beef, gammon, cheese, amazing salads, chutneys, pies and probably loads more I've forgotten........ The family had all pitched in under the direction of a cousin (chef) and it all worked beautifully. To be honest I was started to fall asleep when the speeches started. I had the classic "eaten to much at a wedding, and feel a bit sicky" problem. Everyone else was caning the wine and then the champagne arrived. I don't know if it's cheating but I had a sip after each speech. It feels like I should do. I don't even like champagne.....
Eric and his brother gave brilliant speeches. They were personal, moving and uplifting, whilst sensitive too. The moment I was dreading was the absent friends part. Eric's father passed away some years ago and my eyes were watering as we got near that point. He came through it with a lot of class. It was obvious he was struggling and I hope he sensed everyone willing him on. He just stopped and said, "Well, enough about that. Let's move on". He's a brave man, and I'm proud to know him. He's also married a legend of a girl. I hope they'll be very happy.
The evening carried on and the band started. Fuelled by happiness and red bull we all hit the dancefloor until the early hours. It's always good to throw some shapes, although I thought his gran wasn't putting her all into it. Not wishing to criticise, but someone needed to say it.
All in all it was a great evening. Dancing, laughing and chatting. It was cool to be introduced to the wives of the guys who went on the stag. "M*****? I've heard all about you!!" The accompanying smile and subsequent conversations revealed that they'd heard we'd had a great time, and that I wasn't a nob. This may not sound much to you but it's a big step up from a year ago for me.
Great day. Great people. So glad to have been invited.
Good luck guys, but I don't think you'll need it.
Laters,
R***
Posting Feedback
Good morning all,
I hope all of you in the UK are all enjoying our traditional summer bank holiday weather; ie it's cold, windy, bleak and looks like it's going to piss down if you even think about leaving the house. I'm sure this will bring a tear to the eye of any ex-pat's out there as you reminisce fondly of wet Mondays spent trying to pretend that you are enjoying yourself.
Even our great British tradition of going to the pub at midday and getting bladdered is denied to me, but I'm not too sad about missing out on that one.
Anyway, back to my point. It's been mentioned that I seem to lump an entire story + a few normals/tangents into one blog so it often seems that I'm pretty negative when actually I'm not. For example the stag do. Had a fantastic 36 hours but I didn't want to go to a casino and Lenny was twatted. The last two points shouldn't detract from an amazing couple of days.
I'll have a bash at segregation but it probably won't work. Any comments would be greatly appreciated. I'm not sure what the rules are on reading your own posts but I read one from a couple of weeks ago after a friend mentioned it at the weekend. It reads like a bloody suicide note. I'd known I was depressed but until you actually see it written down it's hard to gauge. It seems a long time ago now.
Anyway, back to the story. In line with my new guidelines I'll start by telling you about a magical day where two amazing people publicly declare their love for one another and then I'll move into the blackstuff...
Hasta luego
I hope all of you in the UK are all enjoying our traditional summer bank holiday weather; ie it's cold, windy, bleak and looks like it's going to piss down if you even think about leaving the house. I'm sure this will bring a tear to the eye of any ex-pat's out there as you reminisce fondly of wet Mondays spent trying to pretend that you are enjoying yourself.
Even our great British tradition of going to the pub at midday and getting bladdered is denied to me, but I'm not too sad about missing out on that one.
Anyway, back to my point. It's been mentioned that I seem to lump an entire story + a few normals/tangents into one blog so it often seems that I'm pretty negative when actually I'm not. For example the stag do. Had a fantastic 36 hours but I didn't want to go to a casino and Lenny was twatted. The last two points shouldn't detract from an amazing couple of days.
I'll have a bash at segregation but it probably won't work. Any comments would be greatly appreciated. I'm not sure what the rules are on reading your own posts but I read one from a couple of weeks ago after a friend mentioned it at the weekend. It reads like a bloody suicide note. I'd known I was depressed but until you actually see it written down it's hard to gauge. It seems a long time ago now.
Anyway, back to the story. In line with my new guidelines I'll start by telling you about a magical day where two amazing people publicly declare their love for one another and then I'll move into the blackstuff...
Hasta luego
Thursday 23 August 2012
The good week continues, a "Shane-esque" evening, and the odd thing of a beer reward
Hola!
Having got over the weekends sleep depravation I'm now back into the swing of it all. Was a teensy bit grumpy Monday but that has passed. I've spent the week doing very little. Up at 6:30, with a fairly casual work preparation regime. It's pleasant not having to rush, especially as we still have some vestige of summer left, and I still get in early
Right now I'm loving going to work. My head is clear again, the depressants/depression has left me and I'm almost at 100% again. I'm aware that I don't get much happier than this, on a personal level. I'd like to have someone to share it with but that's another story.
I hate having to admit this but baby sister is right. "You've got enough on as it is at the moment without getting messed up over another girl". Bitch! I love her because she's always right, and she doesn't want me to get hurt. Actually she's probably more worried about the next girl whose life I bring misery too. She always got on with my exes..... It's odd that she's been the adult in our sibling relationship since she was 17 and I was 21.
I mentioned before that I go a bit bi-polar at first when I quit drinking. Hopefully I've actually passed through that and I am really this happy. I know for a fact that I'm back on form as I'm annoying people with how happy and positive I am at work. It's also the comments that I get away with. Bear in mind that I've known a lot of these people for over a decade so I do have a bit of a license to sail close to the wind. A comment such as "Loving the hair!! The festival look is really in at the moment", may cause offence from a lot of people but they seem to realise that I can't resist a little jab with a compliment and we laugh before they critcise my ironing and then we actually talk properly. It's flirting with being rude, and it's also flirting with flirting but we all know the game. I walk around the office and smile at everyone, and they smile back. I don't know if they're happy that I'm happy or whether I make them feel good. Hopefully a bit of both.
I volunteered to devise and deliver a couple of training programs and I'm loving that too. It's the chance to imprint my view of how things work on the world, and then share it with others. It's all factual too - I don't just make shit up but I've found that training is often either too vague or overcomplicated. The best bit is delivering it. I get to go off road if people want to and it always seems to turn into a chat about the subject, not a lecture. So far everyone seems to enjoy it, so I'm doing something right. I think I just love people. I've also been told that I love the sound of my own voice, but I can't see that. They were ALL wrong about that! Every single one of them. Jealous bastards!
Lost at cards in the pub Tuesday. I had a night of shit cards, or second best cards. I'd rather have shit ones as second best gets expensive! £10 buy in so at least I didn't lose the car. I ordered a "London Pride" as my first drink. Then the bar manager and I remonstrated with the poor girl who went to pour it. "What do you think you're doing? I don't drink!" and "He barred himself, remember?". I bought her a drink to say sorry. I'm actually quite loving the grapefruit juice and lemondade at the minute. May get tricky in winter. A man can only drink so much coffee....
Last night I was asked round Lenny's for £1 poker with Bob. I had to turn it down. I'm too angry and upset with him right now, and I know I have another night of babysitting coming up on Saturday at Eric and Crystal's wedding (I wish I actually did know a couple called Eric and Ruby - their actual names are nowhere near as fun). Bob told me tonight just to cut Lenny loose and let him look after himself but I really can't. Apparently "he wasn't that drunk" at cards. Mare. Maybe next post I'll just try to work out what our relationship is.
Anyway, tonight Bob and I helped my old man (the Silver Fox) dig up a tree stump in the garden. Scratch that. Dad and I helped Bob dig up a tree stump in the garden. It was a bit like that scene in Shane. "Sody-Pops", and flailing axes. It took over two hours and in the end the torch was unleashed but we got it out. It's nice to do something manual, and we got a real sense of achievement. Wouldn't have got that from the pub. The Silver Fox paid Bob in french beer. The Fox only drinks ale and I don't want a crate right now so he was going to get it anyway, but I like to think that he prefered to work for it. I am a bad friend....(evil laugh). To be fair he enjoys hitting things with sledge hammers and axes so it wasn't that mean.
This brings me on to another point. The "Come on mate, give us a hand. I'll buy you a pint", persuasion tactic. Is the beer or the social contract the most important part of this? "Come on mate, give us a hand. I'll buy you a grapefruit and lemonade. I'll even get them to put an umbrella in it", just doesn't seem to cut it somehow. Odd. It's amazing how ingrained alcohol is in our society. Even watching a police drama the inspector goes to the pub about four times a day..... Booze is everywhere. I can't complain because I did my best to reduce it's availability for almost two decades. I always ran out of money or time before the pub ran out of beer. Strange.
Righty-ho (I have never said that before in my life - but I've typed it now so it stays in)
Off to bed.
Catch you all tomorrow
Having got over the weekends sleep depravation I'm now back into the swing of it all. Was a teensy bit grumpy Monday but that has passed. I've spent the week doing very little. Up at 6:30, with a fairly casual work preparation regime. It's pleasant not having to rush, especially as we still have some vestige of summer left, and I still get in early
Right now I'm loving going to work. My head is clear again, the depressants/depression has left me and I'm almost at 100% again. I'm aware that I don't get much happier than this, on a personal level. I'd like to have someone to share it with but that's another story.
I hate having to admit this but baby sister is right. "You've got enough on as it is at the moment without getting messed up over another girl". Bitch! I love her because she's always right, and she doesn't want me to get hurt. Actually she's probably more worried about the next girl whose life I bring misery too. She always got on with my exes..... It's odd that she's been the adult in our sibling relationship since she was 17 and I was 21.
I mentioned before that I go a bit bi-polar at first when I quit drinking. Hopefully I've actually passed through that and I am really this happy. I know for a fact that I'm back on form as I'm annoying people with how happy and positive I am at work. It's also the comments that I get away with. Bear in mind that I've known a lot of these people for over a decade so I do have a bit of a license to sail close to the wind. A comment such as "Loving the hair!! The festival look is really in at the moment", may cause offence from a lot of people but they seem to realise that I can't resist a little jab with a compliment and we laugh before they critcise my ironing and then we actually talk properly. It's flirting with being rude, and it's also flirting with flirting but we all know the game. I walk around the office and smile at everyone, and they smile back. I don't know if they're happy that I'm happy or whether I make them feel good. Hopefully a bit of both.
I volunteered to devise and deliver a couple of training programs and I'm loving that too. It's the chance to imprint my view of how things work on the world, and then share it with others. It's all factual too - I don't just make shit up but I've found that training is often either too vague or overcomplicated. The best bit is delivering it. I get to go off road if people want to and it always seems to turn into a chat about the subject, not a lecture. So far everyone seems to enjoy it, so I'm doing something right. I think I just love people. I've also been told that I love the sound of my own voice, but I can't see that. They were ALL wrong about that! Every single one of them. Jealous bastards!
Lost at cards in the pub Tuesday. I had a night of shit cards, or second best cards. I'd rather have shit ones as second best gets expensive! £10 buy in so at least I didn't lose the car. I ordered a "London Pride" as my first drink. Then the bar manager and I remonstrated with the poor girl who went to pour it. "What do you think you're doing? I don't drink!" and "He barred himself, remember?". I bought her a drink to say sorry. I'm actually quite loving the grapefruit juice and lemondade at the minute. May get tricky in winter. A man can only drink so much coffee....
Last night I was asked round Lenny's for £1 poker with Bob. I had to turn it down. I'm too angry and upset with him right now, and I know I have another night of babysitting coming up on Saturday at Eric and Crystal's wedding (I wish I actually did know a couple called Eric and Ruby - their actual names are nowhere near as fun). Bob told me tonight just to cut Lenny loose and let him look after himself but I really can't. Apparently "he wasn't that drunk" at cards. Mare. Maybe next post I'll just try to work out what our relationship is.
Anyway, tonight Bob and I helped my old man (the Silver Fox) dig up a tree stump in the garden. Scratch that. Dad and I helped Bob dig up a tree stump in the garden. It was a bit like that scene in Shane. "Sody-Pops", and flailing axes. It took over two hours and in the end the torch was unleashed but we got it out. It's nice to do something manual, and we got a real sense of achievement. Wouldn't have got that from the pub. The Silver Fox paid Bob in french beer. The Fox only drinks ale and I don't want a crate right now so he was going to get it anyway, but I like to think that he prefered to work for it. I am a bad friend....(evil laugh). To be fair he enjoys hitting things with sledge hammers and axes so it wasn't that mean.
This brings me on to another point. The "Come on mate, give us a hand. I'll buy you a pint", persuasion tactic. Is the beer or the social contract the most important part of this? "Come on mate, give us a hand. I'll buy you a grapefruit and lemonade. I'll even get them to put an umbrella in it", just doesn't seem to cut it somehow. Odd. It's amazing how ingrained alcohol is in our society. Even watching a police drama the inspector goes to the pub about four times a day..... Booze is everywhere. I can't complain because I did my best to reduce it's availability for almost two decades. I always ran out of money or time before the pub ran out of beer. Strange.
Righty-ho (I have never said that before in my life - but I've typed it now so it stays in)
Off to bed.
Catch you all tomorrow
Tuesday 21 August 2012
Weight....
Last Tuesday (A week ago) I was 9stone 2lb, 58kg ( Same as Mo Farrah). I've lost 4lb overnight so am now 9 stone 13lb, or 63kg. 10lb in a week is pretty good. It would have been a stone but the convention of morning weighing.
It strikes me as very unfair that I have to weigh myself at my lightest. People on diets should be forced to weigh themselves after dinner! Where's my motivation? Bastards! To solve this I intend to simply snack constantly between meals. Back on the 'nanas. Bring it on!
Right, off to the fun farm. I am actually loving work at the minute, which really helps. I'll give you an update later to see if this is still the case.......
Have wonderful days,
R***
It strikes me as very unfair that I have to weigh myself at my lightest. People on diets should be forced to weigh themselves after dinner! Where's my motivation? Bastards! To solve this I intend to simply snack constantly between meals. Back on the 'nanas. Bring it on!
Right, off to the fun farm. I am actually loving work at the minute, which really helps. I'll give you an update later to see if this is still the case.......
Have wonderful days,
R***
Stag Night...Pirate Power & Lenny Strikes Again
Hi! It's been a while.You'll hopefully be pleased to know that I survived a potential minefield;
SOBER AT A STAG DO!!!!
I got up at 6:30 Friday morning and work passed fairly uneventfully. Bob, the Stag ("Eric") and I discussed the next day and generally all was good. I left for the weekend, and wandered home. As the evening progressed I got bored and ended up round Lenny's at about 10:30 to play cards.
Bob was on the beer, but Lenny was on squash. This concerned me. Turns out he'd had 5 pints, a few glasses of wine and was now on the smoke to avoid a hangover. Having lost my money (£1) I headed home at midnight with a sense of worry for the next day, and also a sense of frustration that Lenny always seems to hit straights and full houses when he has no right to play. You remember I said I always seemed to win? Not when sober it seems. Maybe I just used to forget the losses.... Got to sleep at 2.30....
I woke up at 6.30 and was pretty excited. Shower. Fag. Coffee. Fag. Food. Fag. Then I decided to adjust my outfit. 10 minutes, a magic needle and a keen sense of style later (ok exagerating) I had a pirate jacket that did up to the neck, and did look pretty cool. Got dressed and got the bus to the station. The journey was fairly uneventful and we were met at the station by Eric's brother. It takes a brave man to stand on a platform on his own, dressed as a pirate and waving a giant skull and crossbones flag. Good skills that man!!!
We went straight to the hostel , dumped our gear and then got on the ship. The Matthew is pretty cool. A replica 16th galleon. We chilled arout the harbour for an hour and got into character. "Aaaarrrggghh!!", was shouted a lot and we waved at passing boats and people on the banks. Cool. As. Fuck. People love pirates. Everyone else hit the beer/cider but hey, if you're going to fail by 11am then the booze really will beat you. I passed.
To cut it short we went to a few pubs (like bars, only full of people - not dicks) pausing on the way so passing families and other strangers could have photo's taken with us (You feel like a celebrity - V Cool) and went for our bowling and pizza in a cool place god know's where. It was right in the middle of the "See No Evil" street festival. Let's examine Eric's likes; Reggae/hip-hop? Check. Dancing? Check. Red Stripe? Check. Street Parties? Check. Being dressed as a pirate? Check. Dancing to reggae/hip-hop at a street party whilst drinking red stripe and dressed as a pirate? The impossible dream. We hung out and danced like the place was ours for 3 hours until it was time to head back to the hostel and change.
Change? Why? This is an extremely valid question. Apparently we were going to a casino that night. I didn't really fancy it if it meant ditching the clobber, and nor did most of the others. As I explained to my new found mates, "This means we can't go as pirates. This is bad. We have spent the last three hours stopping groups of people with the flag and 'tagging them' with eyeliner. Do you honestly think those girls would have let us sign their boobs if we weren't dressed as pirates?". The answer was a resounding "No". Tonight we go out dressed as twats in shirts and trousers. We're not twats, but we may as well be. So dull. No more boob signing for us!!!
You could see most of the group visibly deflate as the costumes came off. We were just normal again. I was trying to form rebel fringe groups but the pressure to conform was too great. Worse still, it was over an hour since some of these guys last had a beer and the come-down was kicking in. We put on our twat uniforms and went to the twat bar next door but one to the hostel, with all the other twats in their twat uniforms. I felt like I'd never sign a boob again. The pre-cab beer kicked in for the guys and now they just looked tired.
We had a fairly decent Thai meal, which lasted longer than a Monday morning with a hangover, then went to the casino. During the meal the guys looked a little beat, and Lenny was falling into his green curry but luckily casino's offer free soft drinks including COFFEE!!! Like 70% of the party I wasn't that keen so I didn't gamble but I did cane 7 coffees in just over three quarters of an hour. The stage was set.
Two bars and two pints of red bull later and I was ready. I'd passed the time by helping a bride-to-be to convince Lenny to remove his boxers in the middle of a bar. He was half way through it when security came over. They took it pretty well. I guess this stuff happens a lot. Lenny was now my sole room-mate as the other two guys had decided to head home after the casino. I took the precaution of ordering a spare room key for him. The dude was live by now and anything could happen. As it turns out my precautions were in vain, but I'll come to this later.
We found a dirty, cheap, sweaty, underground nightclub that was banging out Indie Rock from the 90's and more besides. It looked like a dive. Perfect!!! It occured to me at about this point that I'd been on the stag for 16 hours and not only had I not had a drink, I didn't want one. I admit that coffee and redbull is cheating a bit but I had only had four hours sleep, so give me a break. The rest of the groups drunkeness was becoming a bit more obvious by now and our hero, as always, was leading the way. Staggering, slurring and general acting like a wobbly and confused sexual predator. We'd even had a chat whilst getting changed. "Give the booze a break until after the casino. We'll still be out till dawn so just enjoy it". This was agreed to and heeded right up until the point we got to a bar.......
We danced with the free abandonment of people who are having a great time and don't care if they look like twats to other people. Awesome. Dance on your own, dance in a group, dance with people you've never met before. As long as you're having a blast and no one gets hurt anything goes. It was amazing. If the street party hadn't been so cool this would have been the best bit by a mile. Then, at 3.30am, my phone rang. I didn't know it yet but this would not be the last time I was to have this conversation that morning.
"R***, it's Lenny. I can't get into the Hostel"
"Have you tried your key?"
"What key?"
"The one I paid for so this wouldn't happen.... Look, don't worry about it. The front door isn't locked. Just walk in".
"It won't open"
"Ok, I'll be back about 4:30. Keep trying. Ask a passer by or something".
This was repeated every 20 - 30 minutes until 6am. Obviously when I was back I went looking for him. Not at the front door, not at the back. Where is the dozy git?
Finally I got lucky at 6am. I went outside to look for him and found him. He had been trying to access the twats bar two doors down from our hostel for TWO AND A HALF HOURS. Unbelievable. One was a bar, set back from the road with tables, chairs and a sign saying "cafe bar". The other was a Youth Hostel, that looked like a Youth Hostel. The other clue was fluorescent blue sign that illuminated the street saying "NYA". Muppet. I finally got him to bed, when he'd stopped hugging me, kissing me and telling me he loved me. It was very sweet, but there is a time and a place for that kind of shit and 6.30am when checkout is 10am is not that fucking time. Then he finally stopped talking. The fucker snores like a B52 warming up, and started within seconds of passing out. I tried shaking him, moving his legs, shouting. I even tried kicking him. It got to 8am and I just gave up, showered, dressed and packed. I am not in a good mood.
Throughout the morning the rest of the party surface. I tried waking Lenny at 20 minute intervals from 9.30 onwards (I liked the role reversal) but with no joy. I was all in favour of leaving him. Everyone thought I was being mean but I'd got him in safe. He can sort his own shit out from now on. I've had enough. A few of us went in search of a cafe in full pirate regalia and it seems he got up at quarter to eleven, then showered whilst the rest waited before appearing half an hour later. I didn't get an apology. I doubt he remembers.
The rest of the day was cool. We chilled out at the cricket and had a chat. People started comparing hangovers. I was a bit grumpy leading to the question, "Not drinking today, eh M*****? Feeling a bit delicate? You were pretty crazy last night". When Eric's friends (now my friends too) realised that I hadn't been drinking the day before they were stunned. Not sure if this is a good thing or not. Actually I am sure. Seems I can be completely uninhibited sober too. Cooooooooooooool! I like that. I really don't need that shit.
Finally got to bed just before midnight. 4 hours sleep out of 65. Good god. Work is going to be emotional tomorrow. I was knackered and elated. I'd done it. I'd proved I could do it. I can have a great time and still be last man standing without Allie. Fuck that slut. I don't need her. I've found pirates.
SOBER AT A STAG DO!!!!
I got up at 6:30 Friday morning and work passed fairly uneventfully. Bob, the Stag ("Eric") and I discussed the next day and generally all was good. I left for the weekend, and wandered home. As the evening progressed I got bored and ended up round Lenny's at about 10:30 to play cards.
Bob was on the beer, but Lenny was on squash. This concerned me. Turns out he'd had 5 pints, a few glasses of wine and was now on the smoke to avoid a hangover. Having lost my money (£1) I headed home at midnight with a sense of worry for the next day, and also a sense of frustration that Lenny always seems to hit straights and full houses when he has no right to play. You remember I said I always seemed to win? Not when sober it seems. Maybe I just used to forget the losses.... Got to sleep at 2.30....
I woke up at 6.30 and was pretty excited. Shower. Fag. Coffee. Fag. Food. Fag. Then I decided to adjust my outfit. 10 minutes, a magic needle and a keen sense of style later (ok exagerating) I had a pirate jacket that did up to the neck, and did look pretty cool. Got dressed and got the bus to the station. The journey was fairly uneventful and we were met at the station by Eric's brother. It takes a brave man to stand on a platform on his own, dressed as a pirate and waving a giant skull and crossbones flag. Good skills that man!!!
We went straight to the hostel , dumped our gear and then got on the ship. The Matthew is pretty cool. A replica 16th galleon. We chilled arout the harbour for an hour and got into character. "Aaaarrrggghh!!", was shouted a lot and we waved at passing boats and people on the banks. Cool. As. Fuck. People love pirates. Everyone else hit the beer/cider but hey, if you're going to fail by 11am then the booze really will beat you. I passed.
To cut it short we went to a few pubs (like bars, only full of people - not dicks) pausing on the way so passing families and other strangers could have photo's taken with us (You feel like a celebrity - V Cool) and went for our bowling and pizza in a cool place god know's where. It was right in the middle of the "See No Evil" street festival. Let's examine Eric's likes; Reggae/hip-hop? Check. Dancing? Check. Red Stripe? Check. Street Parties? Check. Being dressed as a pirate? Check. Dancing to reggae/hip-hop at a street party whilst drinking red stripe and dressed as a pirate? The impossible dream. We hung out and danced like the place was ours for 3 hours until it was time to head back to the hostel and change.
Change? Why? This is an extremely valid question. Apparently we were going to a casino that night. I didn't really fancy it if it meant ditching the clobber, and nor did most of the others. As I explained to my new found mates, "This means we can't go as pirates. This is bad. We have spent the last three hours stopping groups of people with the flag and 'tagging them' with eyeliner. Do you honestly think those girls would have let us sign their boobs if we weren't dressed as pirates?". The answer was a resounding "No". Tonight we go out dressed as twats in shirts and trousers. We're not twats, but we may as well be. So dull. No more boob signing for us!!!
You could see most of the group visibly deflate as the costumes came off. We were just normal again. I was trying to form rebel fringe groups but the pressure to conform was too great. Worse still, it was over an hour since some of these guys last had a beer and the come-down was kicking in. We put on our twat uniforms and went to the twat bar next door but one to the hostel, with all the other twats in their twat uniforms. I felt like I'd never sign a boob again. The pre-cab beer kicked in for the guys and now they just looked tired.
We had a fairly decent Thai meal, which lasted longer than a Monday morning with a hangover, then went to the casino. During the meal the guys looked a little beat, and Lenny was falling into his green curry but luckily casino's offer free soft drinks including COFFEE!!! Like 70% of the party I wasn't that keen so I didn't gamble but I did cane 7 coffees in just over three quarters of an hour. The stage was set.
Two bars and two pints of red bull later and I was ready. I'd passed the time by helping a bride-to-be to convince Lenny to remove his boxers in the middle of a bar. He was half way through it when security came over. They took it pretty well. I guess this stuff happens a lot. Lenny was now my sole room-mate as the other two guys had decided to head home after the casino. I took the precaution of ordering a spare room key for him. The dude was live by now and anything could happen. As it turns out my precautions were in vain, but I'll come to this later.
We found a dirty, cheap, sweaty, underground nightclub that was banging out Indie Rock from the 90's and more besides. It looked like a dive. Perfect!!! It occured to me at about this point that I'd been on the stag for 16 hours and not only had I not had a drink, I didn't want one. I admit that coffee and redbull is cheating a bit but I had only had four hours sleep, so give me a break. The rest of the groups drunkeness was becoming a bit more obvious by now and our hero, as always, was leading the way. Staggering, slurring and general acting like a wobbly and confused sexual predator. We'd even had a chat whilst getting changed. "Give the booze a break until after the casino. We'll still be out till dawn so just enjoy it". This was agreed to and heeded right up until the point we got to a bar.......
We danced with the free abandonment of people who are having a great time and don't care if they look like twats to other people. Awesome. Dance on your own, dance in a group, dance with people you've never met before. As long as you're having a blast and no one gets hurt anything goes. It was amazing. If the street party hadn't been so cool this would have been the best bit by a mile. Then, at 3.30am, my phone rang. I didn't know it yet but this would not be the last time I was to have this conversation that morning.
"R***, it's Lenny. I can't get into the Hostel"
"Have you tried your key?"
"What key?"
"The one I paid for so this wouldn't happen.... Look, don't worry about it. The front door isn't locked. Just walk in".
"It won't open"
"Ok, I'll be back about 4:30. Keep trying. Ask a passer by or something".
This was repeated every 20 - 30 minutes until 6am. Obviously when I was back I went looking for him. Not at the front door, not at the back. Where is the dozy git?
Finally I got lucky at 6am. I went outside to look for him and found him. He had been trying to access the twats bar two doors down from our hostel for TWO AND A HALF HOURS. Unbelievable. One was a bar, set back from the road with tables, chairs and a sign saying "cafe bar". The other was a Youth Hostel, that looked like a Youth Hostel. The other clue was fluorescent blue sign that illuminated the street saying "NYA". Muppet. I finally got him to bed, when he'd stopped hugging me, kissing me and telling me he loved me. It was very sweet, but there is a time and a place for that kind of shit and 6.30am when checkout is 10am is not that fucking time. Then he finally stopped talking. The fucker snores like a B52 warming up, and started within seconds of passing out. I tried shaking him, moving his legs, shouting. I even tried kicking him. It got to 8am and I just gave up, showered, dressed and packed. I am not in a good mood.
Throughout the morning the rest of the party surface. I tried waking Lenny at 20 minute intervals from 9.30 onwards (I liked the role reversal) but with no joy. I was all in favour of leaving him. Everyone thought I was being mean but I'd got him in safe. He can sort his own shit out from now on. I've had enough. A few of us went in search of a cafe in full pirate regalia and it seems he got up at quarter to eleven, then showered whilst the rest waited before appearing half an hour later. I didn't get an apology. I doubt he remembers.
The rest of the day was cool. We chilled out at the cricket and had a chat. People started comparing hangovers. I was a bit grumpy leading to the question, "Not drinking today, eh M*****? Feeling a bit delicate? You were pretty crazy last night". When Eric's friends (now my friends too) realised that I hadn't been drinking the day before they were stunned. Not sure if this is a good thing or not. Actually I am sure. Seems I can be completely uninhibited sober too. Cooooooooooooool! I like that. I really don't need that shit.
Finally got to bed just before midnight. 4 hours sleep out of 65. Good god. Work is going to be emotional tomorrow. I was knackered and elated. I'd done it. I'd proved I could do it. I can have a great time and still be last man standing without Allie. Fuck that slut. I don't need her. I've found pirates.
Thursday 16 August 2012
Good day!
Getting better, getting easier. Well, not easier - just back to where I was.
Work was cool. Had a few hole-punching related japes. You really have to work with a stationery obsessive to find that funny. "This is not A4!!!". Generally felt better about me and made a valid contribution. Also, having nothing to hide/fear makes the day much more pleasant. Walked out of work as my bus pulled up. Another winner!! May stick a couple of quid on England winning the test match. Maybe not.
That actually reminds me. Bob likes to stick crap bets on horses and spend Saturday afternoon watching them win/lose/ wander off and eat grass. 25p to win, £1.50 lucky 15's, that kind of thing. 5 hours entertainment for about a £5 outlay, plus tea and biscuits. I mentioned this to my brother in law when he asked how I was going to pass the weekends. "I'm off to Bob's to watch the racing, place a few bets. Nothing heavy". His reply absolutely killed me. "Uh, R***. Are you sure that's wise? You really don't want to be swapping one addiction with another". I explained the stakes. "You're going that big? That could be a £250 loss over a year!", he said nodding in a slightly patronising yet worldly way. "Can't you just watch without betting?".
I almost cried laughing. A 10p stake on a 10-1 is worth two hours of newspaper research, then the cheering, followed either by the celebratory running round a room, or more usual screwing up of a losing ticket and trying to "Jordan" it into a waste paper bin. I tried to explain how much I drank, how much I spent on booze, and he just couldn't compute it. It was well worth the £5. I think I was 50p up, less 99p biscuit expenditure. Bob provided the tea.
Anyway, came home from work, had a "hearty meal". Not great. Watched my youngest nephew smash the house up for a bit, and after that I arranged to go to Bob's a few hours time. Our mate is getting married next weekend and the stag is this coming one. It's in a Nautical city and we're hiring a galleon for a bit so "Pirates", is the only logical theme. In the meantime I found a pair of chino's I'd never seen before and announced that I was making shorts! I hacked these chino's up and they look pretty good. Ripped, frayed and generally a mess. Actually they sound a bit like my emotional state earlier in the week. Anyway, when I announced that I'd finished my mum asked "Aren't you going to neaten them up a bit?". "Why on earth would I do that?", I said."Well, they're really messy. There's bits hanging off that leg". "PIRATE THEME?????". "Oh, I just thought you were rubbish at cutting". No apology. To be fair she never needs to apologise to me for anything, ever.
I made my excuses and went round Bob's. We had a great time making piraty headscarves, sorting out outfits and having a laugh. I even persuaded him to hack up one of his old suit jackets. Turns out that it looked shit on him, but I looked pretty hot. The only downside is that the sword his dad had made me is now more of a dagger after a bathroom door incident. Win some, lose some.
Got to about 8:30 and we decided to drive up the local hill for a walk. Only takes two tunes to drive there so ideal. We spent an hour just wandering about, looking at the sunset, admiring the scenery and generally talking shit. I told him how things were with me, and he talked too. Made a resolution to do more exciting things in future. Planning more fishing, badminton, camping. Anything to get out the rut of pub olympics, followed by poker in Lenny's lounge. If we go to bars can they at least be interesting ones?
Dropped him off, then drove home. Have just attacked an Jamon Iberico and feel slightly sick. Gambling I can't see as been an addiction problem for me, but smoked pig? Hell yeah!
Sleep well people. Hope I do.
Hasta manana
R***
x
Work was cool. Had a few hole-punching related japes. You really have to work with a stationery obsessive to find that funny. "This is not A4!!!". Generally felt better about me and made a valid contribution. Also, having nothing to hide/fear makes the day much more pleasant. Walked out of work as my bus pulled up. Another winner!! May stick a couple of quid on England winning the test match. Maybe not.
That actually reminds me. Bob likes to stick crap bets on horses and spend Saturday afternoon watching them win/lose/ wander off and eat grass. 25p to win, £1.50 lucky 15's, that kind of thing. 5 hours entertainment for about a £5 outlay, plus tea and biscuits. I mentioned this to my brother in law when he asked how I was going to pass the weekends. "I'm off to Bob's to watch the racing, place a few bets. Nothing heavy". His reply absolutely killed me. "Uh, R***. Are you sure that's wise? You really don't want to be swapping one addiction with another". I explained the stakes. "You're going that big? That could be a £250 loss over a year!", he said nodding in a slightly patronising yet worldly way. "Can't you just watch without betting?".
I almost cried laughing. A 10p stake on a 10-1 is worth two hours of newspaper research, then the cheering, followed either by the celebratory running round a room, or more usual screwing up of a losing ticket and trying to "Jordan" it into a waste paper bin. I tried to explain how much I drank, how much I spent on booze, and he just couldn't compute it. It was well worth the £5. I think I was 50p up, less 99p biscuit expenditure. Bob provided the tea.
Anyway, came home from work, had a "hearty meal". Not great. Watched my youngest nephew smash the house up for a bit, and after that I arranged to go to Bob's a few hours time. Our mate is getting married next weekend and the stag is this coming one. It's in a Nautical city and we're hiring a galleon for a bit so "Pirates", is the only logical theme. In the meantime I found a pair of chino's I'd never seen before and announced that I was making shorts! I hacked these chino's up and they look pretty good. Ripped, frayed and generally a mess. Actually they sound a bit like my emotional state earlier in the week. Anyway, when I announced that I'd finished my mum asked "Aren't you going to neaten them up a bit?". "Why on earth would I do that?", I said."Well, they're really messy. There's bits hanging off that leg". "PIRATE THEME?????". "Oh, I just thought you were rubbish at cutting". No apology. To be fair she never needs to apologise to me for anything, ever.
I made my excuses and went round Bob's. We had a great time making piraty headscarves, sorting out outfits and having a laugh. I even persuaded him to hack up one of his old suit jackets. Turns out that it looked shit on him, but I looked pretty hot. The only downside is that the sword his dad had made me is now more of a dagger after a bathroom door incident. Win some, lose some.
Got to about 8:30 and we decided to drive up the local hill for a walk. Only takes two tunes to drive there so ideal. We spent an hour just wandering about, looking at the sunset, admiring the scenery and generally talking shit. I told him how things were with me, and he talked too. Made a resolution to do more exciting things in future. Planning more fishing, badminton, camping. Anything to get out the rut of pub olympics, followed by poker in Lenny's lounge. If we go to bars can they at least be interesting ones?
Dropped him off, then drove home. Have just attacked an Jamon Iberico and feel slightly sick. Gambling I can't see as been an addiction problem for me, but smoked pig? Hell yeah!
Sleep well people. Hope I do.
Hasta manana
R***
x
Wednesday 15 August 2012
Into the darkness, but I can see the light
Hi,
I've had a pretty shocking time of it recently but hopefully I'm coming through - for now.
Basically another slip up had me doubting that I could do this. The equations; drink = die, stop = live were mentioned in a much earlier post. It seemed to be clear. The fuck up's had me struggling me to understand how I couldn't do this. Surely I had enough self worth to make this choice? No, I didn't. If you don't value yourself enough to make this choice, then maybe you're right! How can anyone else value you? Assign you worth? Why? You don't. The depression started gripping me and I started to to think I should just give up. Why even try to put off the inevitable? It's pretty lonely when the only company you have is self loathing, self pity and Allie.
I pretty much stopped eating Thursday, and only grazed Friday. A banana and an apple is not enough to sustain a 6 foot 2 man. As my calorie count dropped, so did my will to carry on. I ate nothing over the weekend and just lay in the darkness, crying as my inner demons picked up the pace even more. I had a full panic attack on Sunday, with thrown in hallucinations, which was not nice. It sounds odd but I could hear my baby sister talking to me and saying what had being happening, and describing my bodily convulsions. This is odd because she lives abroad. Very weird. I couldn't eat again and passed another night twitching.
When Monday came I tried to get up for work. My body was failing me and my mind was shot. My stomach was now a hostile environment and the acid was making me vomit. After throwing up my breakfast I blacked out at the bus stop. I made it home and had to call the GP. They know me pretty well by now, and even though it was a different GP who called he was aware of my problem, and I think the notes helped. Basically - get your body well and your mind will follow. Anti-depressants would probably not be a good course of action for someone like me. Something for the stomach - to let you eat. Just eat. I managed a bit in the afternoon. But I was still to messed up on Tuesday.
Then my sister came over and my parents came back. They made me eat. They made me drink. They also made me have a shower, which was probably required. Dead skin was rubbing off - pretty grim. They talked to me for hours and wouldn't let me sit with just thoughts of Allie for company. "You can do this son". "It'll be ok". Actually mum's first words were "Why are you doing this to yourself? You're a bloody fool, R******! Why did you drink? I don't want to bury you. Stop sitting there feeling sorry for yourself and get up!!", but I think she was probably thinking my version. She said it later, anyway.
Yesterday morning I weighed in at 128lb, that's 58kg.
This morning I felt better and my stomach is settled, as I had at least 1000 calories yesterday. I've managed to return to work. And eat. I've managed my 2000 calories. Tomorrow we'll try for 2500. I was very fragile this morning; physically weak and the sadness was still there. And the fear. Never forget the fear. As the day has progressed I've got stronger, happier until now I think I can do this.
It's still a bit dark, but I can see the light. I just have to be so careful.
Thanks mum, dad, and both sisters, and all the rest of you. Hopefully I won't let me down, and I'll be around to piss you all off for a while longer.
I've had a pretty shocking time of it recently but hopefully I'm coming through - for now.
Basically another slip up had me doubting that I could do this. The equations; drink = die, stop = live were mentioned in a much earlier post. It seemed to be clear. The fuck up's had me struggling me to understand how I couldn't do this. Surely I had enough self worth to make this choice? No, I didn't. If you don't value yourself enough to make this choice, then maybe you're right! How can anyone else value you? Assign you worth? Why? You don't. The depression started gripping me and I started to to think I should just give up. Why even try to put off the inevitable? It's pretty lonely when the only company you have is self loathing, self pity and Allie.
I pretty much stopped eating Thursday, and only grazed Friday. A banana and an apple is not enough to sustain a 6 foot 2 man. As my calorie count dropped, so did my will to carry on. I ate nothing over the weekend and just lay in the darkness, crying as my inner demons picked up the pace even more. I had a full panic attack on Sunday, with thrown in hallucinations, which was not nice. It sounds odd but I could hear my baby sister talking to me and saying what had being happening, and describing my bodily convulsions. This is odd because she lives abroad. Very weird. I couldn't eat again and passed another night twitching.
When Monday came I tried to get up for work. My body was failing me and my mind was shot. My stomach was now a hostile environment and the acid was making me vomit. After throwing up my breakfast I blacked out at the bus stop. I made it home and had to call the GP. They know me pretty well by now, and even though it was a different GP who called he was aware of my problem, and I think the notes helped. Basically - get your body well and your mind will follow. Anti-depressants would probably not be a good course of action for someone like me. Something for the stomach - to let you eat. Just eat. I managed a bit in the afternoon. But I was still to messed up on Tuesday.
Then my sister came over and my parents came back. They made me eat. They made me drink. They also made me have a shower, which was probably required. Dead skin was rubbing off - pretty grim. They talked to me for hours and wouldn't let me sit with just thoughts of Allie for company. "You can do this son". "It'll be ok". Actually mum's first words were "Why are you doing this to yourself? You're a bloody fool, R******! Why did you drink? I don't want to bury you. Stop sitting there feeling sorry for yourself and get up!!", but I think she was probably thinking my version. She said it later, anyway.
Yesterday morning I weighed in at 128lb, that's 58kg.
This morning I felt better and my stomach is settled, as I had at least 1000 calories yesterday. I've managed to return to work. And eat. I've managed my 2000 calories. Tomorrow we'll try for 2500. I was very fragile this morning; physically weak and the sadness was still there. And the fear. Never forget the fear. As the day has progressed I've got stronger, happier until now I think I can do this.
It's still a bit dark, but I can see the light. I just have to be so careful.
Thanks mum, dad, and both sisters, and all the rest of you. Hopefully I won't let me down, and I'll be around to piss you all off for a while longer.
Sunday 12 August 2012
Introspection
Hey, how's it going? Apologies in advance - feel this just may be random ramblings.
I'm a bit concerned. I've been trying to think about it but I don't actually know me at all. I don't know who I am. When you've spent the last three or four days concentrating on one issue and fail to find any conclusions this is pretty worrying. I should know, for christ's sake. If I don't know who I am who else will?
Ok, let's look at the facts. People seem to like me. I have no idea why this is. I don't particularly like me to be honest. I've admitted that I've lied and underachieved for two decades. I am a carrier of misery. Maybe it's pity. I am proud that I have never set out to do any of this, and prouder still that I have never taken any pleasure in the pain I've caused. Should I see someone in pain I tend to cry. If anything the sadness has just fuelled more drinking. Maybe people see what could have been in themselves in me, and are just glad it isn't them. I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything any more. Maybe it's because they know I love them too, unconditionally. And I do love you. Unconditionally. I hope you know that. No shit this time. I really do. Thank you to all of you who've tried to get hold of me of late. Friends, family. Some crazy Welsh girl who stalks my blog..............I can't believe I'm laughing at a time like this. The world should be more like this. A place where piglets and polar bears get on, and have crazy adventures. Nothing is impossible. Hopefully.
Oddly I also always seem to win. Not actually win, but near enough to keep some credit. Not by any outdated conventional manner, or even by score. It always seems to work out that just when literally everything has gone to shit something turns up. Ace on the river, being sober enough to nail an exam. Something always just turns up. Had a chat with a mate yesterday. I felt it best not to go to his daughters birthday party in this state. His dad tragically passed away a few years ago and I am sorry to say that he left the world with the view that I am an international class cricketer. I am however, pleased to say that I knew him a little. "He was a good man" seems a trite epitaph, but I can't think of a better or more fitting one, and it's more than I can hope for. He truly was. He came to watch us play cricket just the once. I was so hungover/drunk I forgot to move position at the end of the over leaving me about 10 yards away from a man with a bat who twatted a ball at me just as I lit a cigarette. There was no time for my team mates customary shouts of "For fucks sake M*****", as I dived full length to my left to catch a ball travelling at about 130 mph, whilst still smoking. This is me. Moments that last but I can't find any substance in me.
Who knows how this will end? My folks are back Tuesday and I can't wait. I need to just sleep. Recover and be something. Maybe that's what I'm scared of. Scared to be great. Scared to be good. The excuse when turning up to work drunk after splitting with my wife sums me up. "H***, I may be drunk but let's face it. I'm better at this job drunk than any other fucker is sober". No substance.
Sleep well. x
I'm a bit concerned. I've been trying to think about it but I don't actually know me at all. I don't know who I am. When you've spent the last three or four days concentrating on one issue and fail to find any conclusions this is pretty worrying. I should know, for christ's sake. If I don't know who I am who else will?
Ok, let's look at the facts. People seem to like me. I have no idea why this is. I don't particularly like me to be honest. I've admitted that I've lied and underachieved for two decades. I am a carrier of misery. Maybe it's pity. I am proud that I have never set out to do any of this, and prouder still that I have never taken any pleasure in the pain I've caused. Should I see someone in pain I tend to cry. If anything the sadness has just fuelled more drinking. Maybe people see what could have been in themselves in me, and are just glad it isn't them. I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything any more. Maybe it's because they know I love them too, unconditionally. And I do love you. Unconditionally. I hope you know that. No shit this time. I really do. Thank you to all of you who've tried to get hold of me of late. Friends, family. Some crazy Welsh girl who stalks my blog..............I can't believe I'm laughing at a time like this. The world should be more like this. A place where piglets and polar bears get on, and have crazy adventures. Nothing is impossible. Hopefully.
Oddly I also always seem to win. Not actually win, but near enough to keep some credit. Not by any outdated conventional manner, or even by score. It always seems to work out that just when literally everything has gone to shit something turns up. Ace on the river, being sober enough to nail an exam. Something always just turns up. Had a chat with a mate yesterday. I felt it best not to go to his daughters birthday party in this state. His dad tragically passed away a few years ago and I am sorry to say that he left the world with the view that I am an international class cricketer. I am however, pleased to say that I knew him a little. "He was a good man" seems a trite epitaph, but I can't think of a better or more fitting one, and it's more than I can hope for. He truly was. He came to watch us play cricket just the once. I was so hungover/drunk I forgot to move position at the end of the over leaving me about 10 yards away from a man with a bat who twatted a ball at me just as I lit a cigarette. There was no time for my team mates customary shouts of "For fucks sake M*****", as I dived full length to my left to catch a ball travelling at about 130 mph, whilst still smoking. This is me. Moments that last but I can't find any substance in me.
Who knows how this will end? My folks are back Tuesday and I can't wait. I need to just sleep. Recover and be something. Maybe that's what I'm scared of. Scared to be great. Scared to be good. The excuse when turning up to work drunk after splitting with my wife sums me up. "H***, I may be drunk but let's face it. I'm better at this job drunk than any other fucker is sober". No substance.
Sleep well. x
Friday 10 August 2012
I've had enough.
I really can't deal with this. The only thing stopping me being a twat is the pain I've already caused. Any more is pushing it. Far too much. I don't think I'm strong enough on my own. This is really hurting. I don't know what to do and I want to cry all the time. Top tip. Find an alcoholic, and talk to them. See them every day. Help them. We are not bad people.
And I never felt so alone...............and so low........
My wonderful ex texted me today. Biggest regret of my life that I couldn't make her happy. Sometimes you lose, no matter what you try. Google Monte Casino for an example. It all goes to tit's.
And I never felt so alone...............and so low........
My wonderful ex texted me today. Biggest regret of my life that I couldn't make her happy. Sometimes you lose, no matter what you try. Google Monte Casino for an example. It all goes to tit's.
Thursday 9 August 2012
Fuck
I got hammered last night. Drunk to normal people is a squiffy state of mild confusion. I don't play games. I drink in a furious way to forget it all. I don't even remember what I'm forgetting. 4 can's of Stella, 4 pints (I can tell from the change) a shit load of rum, and then 2 bottles of red. Fuck. I can give you all the lies if you want. Eve upset me. She doesn't love me. Work was bad. I acccidentally insulted a director. Not my fault. He shouldn't have been a muppet.
No excuses. I fucked up.
Then my mate called. It's easy. I can do this. No, R***, it's not easy. You are lucky to have friends like that. He moaned at me for half an hour. I really appreciate that kind of thing. Right now I am hanging out my arse. Dying is too easy.
Thank you codeandcoke x. You mean the world to me
R***
No excuses. I fucked up.
Then my mate called. It's easy. I can do this. No, R***, it's not easy. You are lucky to have friends like that. He moaned at me for half an hour. I really appreciate that kind of thing. Right now I am hanging out my arse. Dying is too easy.
Thank you codeandcoke x. You mean the world to me
R***
Sunday 5 August 2012
I'm starting to assume that this weekend is just an elaborate hoax.......
I know the hidden camera's are there somewhere. Come out you fuckers!
Seconds after sending Eve a text explaining why I looked a bit down at lunch (she did ask) my phone flashed and came up with the legend "SIM Not Registered". I got a call the Thursday before last saying a free upgrade and a better contract were available, so I took it. I provided my address and then they asked for the address I was at when I registered the phone, for "security" reasons.
I've looked up "security" in the dictionary and am somewhat confused. Nowhere does it mention that "security", means that bell-ends will brilliantly try to deliver my phone to a place I don't live at anymore. Unsurprisingly, it was refused, because I don't fucking live there anymore. This would have prompted a phone call from many companies querying the delivery address, but apparently not from these. I just wonder where the courier managed to tie up his horse. Now they can't call me to inform me of their mistake, because my fucking phone doesn't work, mainly because of their mistake. I am moderately miffed. Possibly a tad more. In fact it's pretty fair to say that if Jeremy Beadle's ghost pops out a cupboard in a sec I won't be calling Egon, Ray, Winston and Pete for help. I'll just nut him!!!!
I probably need to calm down. On the bright side I can't call a locksmith to open the spirits cabinet, or order a pizza I don't want in order to get 12 cans of Stella, so it's another win. Anyone for ovaltine?
And no Allie, not tonight. You're a fucking ugly person and you're making me act the same.
God I hope Eve got/didn't get my message. Either way it's fucked. Nightmare!
This ends the public information broadcast on behalf of carphone warehouse.
Wankers!
Sleep well
Seconds after sending Eve a text explaining why I looked a bit down at lunch (she did ask) my phone flashed and came up with the legend "SIM Not Registered". I got a call the Thursday before last saying a free upgrade and a better contract were available, so I took it. I provided my address and then they asked for the address I was at when I registered the phone, for "security" reasons.
I've looked up "security" in the dictionary and am somewhat confused. Nowhere does it mention that "security", means that bell-ends will brilliantly try to deliver my phone to a place I don't live at anymore. Unsurprisingly, it was refused, because I don't fucking live there anymore. This would have prompted a phone call from many companies querying the delivery address, but apparently not from these. I just wonder where the courier managed to tie up his horse. Now they can't call me to inform me of their mistake, because my fucking phone doesn't work, mainly because of their mistake. I am moderately miffed. Possibly a tad more. In fact it's pretty fair to say that if Jeremy Beadle's ghost pops out a cupboard in a sec I won't be calling Egon, Ray, Winston and Pete for help. I'll just nut him!!!!
I probably need to calm down. On the bright side I can't call a locksmith to open the spirits cabinet, or order a pizza I don't want in order to get 12 cans of Stella, so it's another win. Anyone for ovaltine?
And no Allie, not tonight. You're a fucking ugly person and you're making me act the same.
God I hope Eve got/didn't get my message. Either way it's fucked. Nightmare!
This ends the public information broadcast on behalf of carphone warehouse.
Wankers!
Sleep well
Mixed weekend, and Allie's knocking......
Hey, how's it going? I've been better. In fact I'm writing this mainly because option "B", involves extending my right arm 19.5 inches to the spirit cabinet. Yes, I measured it. Sorry if this blog comes across as a bit all over the place, and a bit of a mess but that's how I'm feeling, so at least it's an honest reflection. Let's start at the beginning.......
Friday - Work was good. Went to the dog racing in the evening. Odd comment from a guy I work with when someone asked "are you drinking tonight M*****?". "No he fucking isn't!". He seems to think I'm ill when I drink, whereas I'm actually ill when I quit and curl up for 3 days and wish I was dead. Not a good start. Passed pretty uneventfully; My gambling worked out better than abysmal and I ended the night about a tenner up. Not going to buy a new car with that but it's better than being down. Winner. Went home and all I was thinking about was Saturday and lunch with Eve.
Saturday - Woke up early and printed directions. Our meeting place was between where she lives and my newly wed friends house where I staying that night. I printed directions and left at 10.30, to be there for 12.30. It's only an hour 20 away but those who know me will confirm that I could get lost in my sock drawer. To say I got lost is not strictly accurate. I admit that for much of the time I had no idea where the fuck I was but whenever I neared the point of turning round I'd spot a sign pointing me in the right direction. I got there in 75 minutes. This is surely a good omen! Lunch was great. We chatted, laughed, and smiled all the way through and three hours just flew. She was just as kind, funny, intelligent and pretty as I remembered. We said goodbye, and I drove to my mates. Again I had no idea where I was but I ended up in their village, found a place to stop (outside a church - good landmark!), and called. "You're opposite our road. Come down the hill and it's at the bottom". I am on fire!!! Nothing can go wrong. We had a coffee and went for a drive to their local town (it's actually a city but it's a cool, pretty, small one). We were all shit at crazy golf (I was joint 2nd - out of 3) and had a great time anyway. Our controversial "play it where it lies" rule made for a fascinating spectacle. Dinner was cool. Chicken and ribs, followed by chocolate fudge sundae. Everything was going great. Went back to watch a film and then it all went wrong, although I didn't know it. I sent a text. "Just watching a film, then bed. Hope you enjoyed today as much as I did. Have a great night and see you tomorrow. Sleep well x x ps i am full of sugar again :o)". I had enjoyed today and I was full of sugar. We'd been caning left over pick and mix from the wedding. I went to bed happy, looking forward to the morning.
Sunday - Awake at 6:30 again. Doesn't matter, only 6 hours until seeing Eve. You may have guessed by now that I really like this girl. I know! It was a shock to me too:o) Then, it started to go wrong. I got a text. "Hey r***, can we have a chat?". I may be no expert on these matters, but this not a good sign. I phoned. Basically she'd read my text and was worried that I felt about her differently to how she felt about me. It was at that moment that the great llama of love turned round and went HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!! When I came round I could see that bitch Allie sat in the saddle and laughing. Lunch was set anyway so, despite the sensible part of my brain screaming "this is really going to fuck you up - don't do it!!!", I went. The venue was a small village pub, in the middle of a localized mobile dead zone. I was a bit early (failed to get lost again), so arrived at 12:15. 12:30 came and went and the lady behind the bar was giving me sympathetic looks. I should never have asked for two menu's. Schoolboy error. It got to 13:00 and I decided to leave my previously isolated position at a table for two by the window as the pub was getting full and frankly, I was looking like a bit of a twat. I knew she wouldn't stand me up. She's too cool for that. I just hoped she was ok. I also hoped I was right.
I found an isolated table in the dark as far away from anyone else as possible and decided that if Eve didn't show by 1:30 I was going to order anyway. I may have been stood up but I wasn't missing lunch! I went out for a fag, and then came back in to finalise my decison at half one when she arrived. She'd got lost, run out of petrol and left me voice mails + texts. She was so apologetic I felt guilty. I may be many bad things, but I am a good judge of character. Actually I'm a terrible judge of character as I always see the best in people, but it's nice to be right sometimes. Lunch was really good and she was as lovely as she had been the day before. I just couldn't understand how it had gone wrong. Apparently we just didn't click. It clicked for me, big style. Fuck!!! To be honest, it's bloody easier if someone just thinks you're a twat. All hope is gone, and you'll never see them again. This wonderful girl is so honest that she would like to see me again, as friends, but had to tell me how she felt so she didn't lead me on. Kind and honest people will hurt you the most, because they try to spare you unneccesary pain and won't lie. Shit - I like her even more . I'm not into masochism I swear x. Then we said goodbye. Ouch.
"Therapy?" was probably a bad music choice.... I got horrifically lost on the way home, and ended up on the wrong side of a city I wasn't attempting to go to heading the wrong way down a motorway. Whenever I was in the right place I was in the wrong lane and they seemed to herd me away from the comfort of home and into the purgatory of an un-named hell whole of chav's, twats and roundabouts........... When your luck changes it really doesn't do it in fucking half measures.
Anyway, here's the deal. You give up drinking. You lose the depression and pessimism. You think it's going to be rosy. Maybe I read too much into a kiss from a girl (who'd been drinking) at a wedding. She was great, we got on and she'd kissed me. I really should have isolated the two. Drinking = kiss. Sober = get on really well. The downside is that whilst sober highs are amazing you have nothing to hide behind when it goes wrong. Everything becomes so polarised. Hopefully it'll settle down soon because this is fucking killing me. I just want a fucking break. That's not too much to ask, is it?
Allie's asking if I want to do her tonight, no strings attached. It's really tempting, I'm not going to lie to you. The saving grace is that I know she's a whore, and I'd rather be happy that I met a great girl called Eve, took a chance and it didn't work. Even if I feel like crying tonight. At least I didn't have to work out how to tell her I'm an alcoholic. That's not a saving grace. I wish I'd needed to. Fuck me this hurts.
R***
Friday - Work was good. Went to the dog racing in the evening. Odd comment from a guy I work with when someone asked "are you drinking tonight M*****?". "No he fucking isn't!". He seems to think I'm ill when I drink, whereas I'm actually ill when I quit and curl up for 3 days and wish I was dead. Not a good start. Passed pretty uneventfully; My gambling worked out better than abysmal and I ended the night about a tenner up. Not going to buy a new car with that but it's better than being down. Winner. Went home and all I was thinking about was Saturday and lunch with Eve.
Saturday - Woke up early and printed directions. Our meeting place was between where she lives and my newly wed friends house where I staying that night. I printed directions and left at 10.30, to be there for 12.30. It's only an hour 20 away but those who know me will confirm that I could get lost in my sock drawer. To say I got lost is not strictly accurate. I admit that for much of the time I had no idea where the fuck I was but whenever I neared the point of turning round I'd spot a sign pointing me in the right direction. I got there in 75 minutes. This is surely a good omen! Lunch was great. We chatted, laughed, and smiled all the way through and three hours just flew. She was just as kind, funny, intelligent and pretty as I remembered. We said goodbye, and I drove to my mates. Again I had no idea where I was but I ended up in their village, found a place to stop (outside a church - good landmark!), and called. "You're opposite our road. Come down the hill and it's at the bottom". I am on fire!!! Nothing can go wrong. We had a coffee and went for a drive to their local town (it's actually a city but it's a cool, pretty, small one). We were all shit at crazy golf (I was joint 2nd - out of 3) and had a great time anyway. Our controversial "play it where it lies" rule made for a fascinating spectacle. Dinner was cool. Chicken and ribs, followed by chocolate fudge sundae. Everything was going great. Went back to watch a film and then it all went wrong, although I didn't know it. I sent a text. "Just watching a film, then bed. Hope you enjoyed today as much as I did. Have a great night and see you tomorrow. Sleep well x x ps i am full of sugar again :o)". I had enjoyed today and I was full of sugar. We'd been caning left over pick and mix from the wedding. I went to bed happy, looking forward to the morning.
Sunday - Awake at 6:30 again. Doesn't matter, only 6 hours until seeing Eve. You may have guessed by now that I really like this girl. I know! It was a shock to me too:o) Then, it started to go wrong. I got a text. "Hey r***, can we have a chat?". I may be no expert on these matters, but this not a good sign. I phoned. Basically she'd read my text and was worried that I felt about her differently to how she felt about me. It was at that moment that the great llama of love turned round and went HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!! When I came round I could see that bitch Allie sat in the saddle and laughing. Lunch was set anyway so, despite the sensible part of my brain screaming "this is really going to fuck you up - don't do it!!!", I went. The venue was a small village pub, in the middle of a localized mobile dead zone. I was a bit early (failed to get lost again), so arrived at 12:15. 12:30 came and went and the lady behind the bar was giving me sympathetic looks. I should never have asked for two menu's. Schoolboy error. It got to 13:00 and I decided to leave my previously isolated position at a table for two by the window as the pub was getting full and frankly, I was looking like a bit of a twat. I knew she wouldn't stand me up. She's too cool for that. I just hoped she was ok. I also hoped I was right.
I found an isolated table in the dark as far away from anyone else as possible and decided that if Eve didn't show by 1:30 I was going to order anyway. I may have been stood up but I wasn't missing lunch! I went out for a fag, and then came back in to finalise my decison at half one when she arrived. She'd got lost, run out of petrol and left me voice mails + texts. She was so apologetic I felt guilty. I may be many bad things, but I am a good judge of character. Actually I'm a terrible judge of character as I always see the best in people, but it's nice to be right sometimes. Lunch was really good and she was as lovely as she had been the day before. I just couldn't understand how it had gone wrong. Apparently we just didn't click. It clicked for me, big style. Fuck!!! To be honest, it's bloody easier if someone just thinks you're a twat. All hope is gone, and you'll never see them again. This wonderful girl is so honest that she would like to see me again, as friends, but had to tell me how she felt so she didn't lead me on. Kind and honest people will hurt you the most, because they try to spare you unneccesary pain and won't lie. Shit - I like her even more . I'm not into masochism I swear x. Then we said goodbye. Ouch.
"Therapy?" was probably a bad music choice.... I got horrifically lost on the way home, and ended up on the wrong side of a city I wasn't attempting to go to heading the wrong way down a motorway. Whenever I was in the right place I was in the wrong lane and they seemed to herd me away from the comfort of home and into the purgatory of an un-named hell whole of chav's, twats and roundabouts........... When your luck changes it really doesn't do it in fucking half measures.
Anyway, here's the deal. You give up drinking. You lose the depression and pessimism. You think it's going to be rosy. Maybe I read too much into a kiss from a girl (who'd been drinking) at a wedding. She was great, we got on and she'd kissed me. I really should have isolated the two. Drinking = kiss. Sober = get on really well. The downside is that whilst sober highs are amazing you have nothing to hide behind when it goes wrong. Everything becomes so polarised. Hopefully it'll settle down soon because this is fucking killing me. I just want a fucking break. That's not too much to ask, is it?
Allie's asking if I want to do her tonight, no strings attached. It's really tempting, I'm not going to lie to you. The saving grace is that I know she's a whore, and I'd rather be happy that I met a great girl called Eve, took a chance and it didn't work. Even if I feel like crying tonight. At least I didn't have to work out how to tell her I'm an alcoholic. That's not a saving grace. I wish I'd needed to. Fuck me this hurts.
R***
Saturday 4 August 2012
Blood Test Results
Brief yet bloody huge to me!
All I'll give is what my results were in March, what they should be, and what they are now, followed by a brief editorial from my Dr..... I am a lucky puppy.
Alkaline phosphate levels; 360, 130-30, 91
ALT liver enzymes; 206, 40, 38
Gama GT; 700, 61, 40
As you can see I'm physically ok (the figures could still do with cutting down, but I'm in the safe zone). The worry is that I got ALT up from 17 to 38 in a few short weeks.
Lovely DR: "I'm really surprised by the results, and pleased. We'll book you in for the end of October for more bloods and a urine test".
Me: (Silent) "Fuuuuuuckkk"
Me; (Out loud). That sounds brilliant
Here's the life saver.....
Lovely Dr: "You do realise that you've been extremely fortunate this time? Next time you may not have that luck your side. You can never drink again".
She was so matter of fact, so calm. I'd told her the truth about my problem and now it's in black and white. From a medical point of view I am physically able to drink. Luckily this time I didn't see a specialist who only gave me that aspect. Mentally M*****, you cannot drink. You are an alcoholic. Learn to live with that. Otherwise we'll have this chat in three years and it won't be so pretty. I'm planning on sending pot plants to the surgery as a present.
More good news! Apparently the gynecomastia tissue on my nipples should subside. Fuck me. This day keeps getting better! I thought I had a kind of permanent booze tattoo. Thank god for that. They still hurt, by the way. I gave my Dr this blog address, and I apologised in advance for post 3. I was a bit angry....
I'm going to live. It's weird actually having to think that. All I have to do is make sure I spend my living alive....I've blown 17 years so I'd better make up for it. I think I'm going to start playing catch up.
Laters
R***
All I'll give is what my results were in March, what they should be, and what they are now, followed by a brief editorial from my Dr..... I am a lucky puppy.
Alkaline phosphate levels; 360, 130-30, 91
ALT liver enzymes; 206, 40, 38
Gama GT; 700, 61, 40
As you can see I'm physically ok (the figures could still do with cutting down, but I'm in the safe zone). The worry is that I got ALT up from 17 to 38 in a few short weeks.
Lovely DR: "I'm really surprised by the results, and pleased. We'll book you in for the end of October for more bloods and a urine test".
Me: (Silent) "Fuuuuuuckkk"
Me; (Out loud). That sounds brilliant
Here's the life saver.....
Lovely Dr: "You do realise that you've been extremely fortunate this time? Next time you may not have that luck your side. You can never drink again".
She was so matter of fact, so calm. I'd told her the truth about my problem and now it's in black and white. From a medical point of view I am physically able to drink. Luckily this time I didn't see a specialist who only gave me that aspect. Mentally M*****, you cannot drink. You are an alcoholic. Learn to live with that. Otherwise we'll have this chat in three years and it won't be so pretty. I'm planning on sending pot plants to the surgery as a present.
More good news! Apparently the gynecomastia tissue on my nipples should subside. Fuck me. This day keeps getting better! I thought I had a kind of permanent booze tattoo. Thank god for that. They still hurt, by the way. I gave my Dr this blog address, and I apologised in advance for post 3. I was a bit angry....
I'm going to live. It's weird actually having to think that. All I have to do is make sure I spend my living alive....I've blown 17 years so I'd better make up for it. I think I'm going to start playing catch up.
Laters
R***
Thursday 2 August 2012
Monday, until bloods....
So, almost up to date.......... Sorry it's taken song.
Monday - went to work after a heavy brakfast. Loved it. I am so much better straight. Causing problems (in a good way) about risk. Awesome. Allie is hiding somewhere, waiting for a chance. Not todat chuckles. Got hold of "The Big Man". He's changed numbers, but him and his lovely wife manged to get a babysitter for their child so they canhave a night o their own. Jiggeddy x. I riuned it all by meeting them in a pub before they went for the meal. Well, in my eyes. We all had a good chat, and I apologised for not being in touch for twoo months. Good news is that I drove and have an invite to their childs birthday party. I was told in no uncertain terms that it wouldn't have happened if I'd still been drinking. I'm keeping my promise to stop being a twat and make sure I see the important people a lot more. Came home, chatted to Eve and went to bed.
Tuesday - see Monday but was challenged to go to sleep at a normal hour by Eve.
Wednesday - Another early night. Work was great. I'd forgotten that I'm clever and have hidden behind being better than most. Shit -Flashback. My old boss once accused me of turning up at work whilst still drunk. My response? "That's a good point, and well made. I am, however, better at this shit pissed than anyone else in this team or company is sober. What can you do?". Apparently alcohol boosts the ego. I've never seen any evidence of that...... Ate enough risotto to kill a rhino. Went to bed scared. Blood test results tomorrow.
Fuck
Throughout this I've had to worry about Eve. My friends are telling me that she'll work it out herself, or that lots of people don't drink. Not a big deal. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!
Monday - went to work after a heavy brakfast. Loved it. I am so much better straight. Causing problems (in a good way) about risk. Awesome. Allie is hiding somewhere, waiting for a chance. Not todat chuckles. Got hold of "The Big Man". He's changed numbers, but him and his lovely wife manged to get a babysitter for their child so they canhave a night o their own. Jiggeddy x. I riuned it all by meeting them in a pub before they went for the meal. Well, in my eyes. We all had a good chat, and I apologised for not being in touch for twoo months. Good news is that I drove and have an invite to their childs birthday party. I was told in no uncertain terms that it wouldn't have happened if I'd still been drinking. I'm keeping my promise to stop being a twat and make sure I see the important people a lot more. Came home, chatted to Eve and went to bed.
Tuesday - see Monday but was challenged to go to sleep at a normal hour by Eve.
Wednesday - Another early night. Work was great. I'd forgotten that I'm clever and have hidden behind being better than most. Shit -Flashback. My old boss once accused me of turning up at work whilst still drunk. My response? "That's a good point, and well made. I am, however, better at this shit pissed than anyone else in this team or company is sober. What can you do?". Apparently alcohol boosts the ego. I've never seen any evidence of that...... Ate enough risotto to kill a rhino. Went to bed scared. Blood test results tomorrow.
Fuck
Throughout this I've had to worry about Eve. My friends are telling me that she'll work it out herself, or that lots of people don't drink. Not a big deal. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday 1 August 2012
Saturday and Sunday
Hello again. How was your weekend? Good I hope. Here's mine....
On Saturday I got up with the sun. Clear head, and only a brief stint of furniture moving to come. Literally one bit... Went online and saw a friend who'd moved away was back in town so sent a text to see what she had planned. Ok, I saw that she was home on Facebook. I'm not proud, but it's for handy keeping up with people - in a shit lazy way. She said she had some shopping to do so I got the furniture moving out the way and then she picked me up. Had a coffee, she bought a dress and I got a cd. Quite sad but I bought Florence & the Machine; Lungs. I lack the ability to appreciate any depth of quality in music. My friends can talk about riffs, rhythms and the rest but all I can do is asscoiate it with how it makes me feel, and any associated memories. Obviously I've always known that the cheeky girls, SClub 7 and, more recently, Carly Rae Jepson are shit so there is hope for me. I'm quite proud that I had to google the last one.
Ah, Florence. My ex introduced me to them and we saw them at Latitude. So many happy memories, and yet I feel sad every time I hear it. Nightmare. I've now got the rest of the day free and I'm fucking down. Shite! I could read a book, go up the hill, write a bit of this. Or I could have a drink. I'm finding that reading doesn't cut it as a distraction right now, and it's raining so the hill's out of the question. The view of clouds has never appealed to me. Well not from the inside. It's like an itch. Just have one Rich. One'll be ok. And so.......I wrote a post for this. Oddly I'm getting the same itch now, but it'll be ok. I've got you guys behind me, right?
I texted Lenny to see if he was about for a chat. He's getting a bit fucked off that I've told him I'm worried about him. I didn't say why, but here's the reply...........
"Thanks for your concern, and I understand why you feel the need to help given what you've been through recently. I'm a little baffled why I'm being singled out. Yes, I like a beer (who mentioned beer?), as do pretty much all our frinds. Do I drink heavily every day, no. And nor do they".
Fair point, but it seems that you drink every day, and heavily is subjective. I mentioned this and also the fact that even I haven't had to apologise for my behavior for years (and I'm the card carrying alcoholic), and nor has anyone else.
He seems to think it's all a blip..... Maybe I'm wrong, and he's right. Who knows? It appears that I've been told to mind my own business and look after my own shit. I'll try.
After that I got another text asking me "did you shag that girl at the wedding?". You may recall that I went through this with Lenny the previous Sunday. Memory loss in one so young, but I'm sure it's not the booze. Also, drinking heavily a few times a week does not count as "a few", if one of the them starts Friday at 5:30, and finishes at 11:00pm Sunday. Maybe it does. I think I only drank heavily once between 1995 and 2012.......
Sunday was good. I did some shopping and my elder sis came over with my nephews. Bless them. Sis commented on how clean and tidy the house was when she arrived, as well as how well I was looking. By the time they left the place was a mess, covered in boiled egg and I was knackered. Worth it though. Shame the weather was crap so we couldn't play outside.
Things like this worry me. In a dozen or so years time, maybe, the boys are going to ask "Uncle R****? Why don't you drink?". What the hell am I going to say? "I haven't drunk for a long time to make sure I got old enough for you to ask that question". Maybe I'll just show him this. When they're old enough to drink, they'll be old enough to know the dangers. This brings me on to Eve.
We've been chatting on Skype, exchanging texts and generally getting on well. It's so relaxing talking to her. Everything is just so chilled and natural. Every time she asks me what I've been up to or where I've been it seems I'm driving. "Can't they get another Chauffeur?", she asks. I'm seeing her this Saturday and Sunday, with a visit to my newly-wed friends in between. We will be incinerating animals, weather permitting. I'll be driving again, as it's a bit of a distance. I've got to tell her the truth soon, but how? I'm really scared. I like this girl a lot and I don't want to lose her before we even get started.
Allie fucked up my last two relationships, and now it seems her abscence could ruin this one too. If I wasn't so sad I'd laugh out loud. Actually, I'm now crying a bit and laughing because it's so ridiculous. Why me? I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't ask for this. I just want to able to be like everyone else.
The rest of Sunday was happily wasted; washing up, reading, pretending I'm Steven Gerrard in the garden. Bed
On Saturday I got up with the sun. Clear head, and only a brief stint of furniture moving to come. Literally one bit... Went online and saw a friend who'd moved away was back in town so sent a text to see what she had planned. Ok, I saw that she was home on Facebook. I'm not proud, but it's for handy keeping up with people - in a shit lazy way. She said she had some shopping to do so I got the furniture moving out the way and then she picked me up. Had a coffee, she bought a dress and I got a cd. Quite sad but I bought Florence & the Machine; Lungs. I lack the ability to appreciate any depth of quality in music. My friends can talk about riffs, rhythms and the rest but all I can do is asscoiate it with how it makes me feel, and any associated memories. Obviously I've always known that the cheeky girls, SClub 7 and, more recently, Carly Rae Jepson are shit so there is hope for me. I'm quite proud that I had to google the last one.
Ah, Florence. My ex introduced me to them and we saw them at Latitude. So many happy memories, and yet I feel sad every time I hear it. Nightmare. I've now got the rest of the day free and I'm fucking down. Shite! I could read a book, go up the hill, write a bit of this. Or I could have a drink. I'm finding that reading doesn't cut it as a distraction right now, and it's raining so the hill's out of the question. The view of clouds has never appealed to me. Well not from the inside. It's like an itch. Just have one Rich. One'll be ok. And so.......I wrote a post for this. Oddly I'm getting the same itch now, but it'll be ok. I've got you guys behind me, right?
I texted Lenny to see if he was about for a chat. He's getting a bit fucked off that I've told him I'm worried about him. I didn't say why, but here's the reply...........
"Thanks for your concern, and I understand why you feel the need to help given what you've been through recently. I'm a little baffled why I'm being singled out. Yes, I like a beer (who mentioned beer?), as do pretty much all our frinds. Do I drink heavily every day, no. And nor do they".
Fair point, but it seems that you drink every day, and heavily is subjective. I mentioned this and also the fact that even I haven't had to apologise for my behavior for years (and I'm the card carrying alcoholic), and nor has anyone else.
He seems to think it's all a blip..... Maybe I'm wrong, and he's right. Who knows? It appears that I've been told to mind my own business and look after my own shit. I'll try.
After that I got another text asking me "did you shag that girl at the wedding?". You may recall that I went through this with Lenny the previous Sunday. Memory loss in one so young, but I'm sure it's not the booze. Also, drinking heavily a few times a week does not count as "a few", if one of the them starts Friday at 5:30, and finishes at 11:00pm Sunday. Maybe it does. I think I only drank heavily once between 1995 and 2012.......
Sunday was good. I did some shopping and my elder sis came over with my nephews. Bless them. Sis commented on how clean and tidy the house was when she arrived, as well as how well I was looking. By the time they left the place was a mess, covered in boiled egg and I was knackered. Worth it though. Shame the weather was crap so we couldn't play outside.
Things like this worry me. In a dozen or so years time, maybe, the boys are going to ask "Uncle R****? Why don't you drink?". What the hell am I going to say? "I haven't drunk for a long time to make sure I got old enough for you to ask that question". Maybe I'll just show him this. When they're old enough to drink, they'll be old enough to know the dangers. This brings me on to Eve.
We've been chatting on Skype, exchanging texts and generally getting on well. It's so relaxing talking to her. Everything is just so chilled and natural. Every time she asks me what I've been up to or where I've been it seems I'm driving. "Can't they get another Chauffeur?", she asks. I'm seeing her this Saturday and Sunday, with a visit to my newly-wed friends in between. We will be incinerating animals, weather permitting. I'll be driving again, as it's a bit of a distance. I've got to tell her the truth soon, but how? I'm really scared. I like this girl a lot and I don't want to lose her before we even get started.
Allie fucked up my last two relationships, and now it seems her abscence could ruin this one too. If I wasn't so sad I'd laugh out loud. Actually, I'm now crying a bit and laughing because it's so ridiculous. Why me? I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't ask for this. I just want to able to be like everyone else.
The rest of Sunday was happily wasted; washing up, reading, pretending I'm Steven Gerrard in the garden. Bed
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