Hangover force 4, gusting force 6
I am currently experiencing a full body hangover, but medicating with a bacon and egg sarnie, coke, tea and, my latest find, salted pretzels. These have replaced cheesy corn poofs as my hangover snack of choice, as they have all the benefits of a savoury taste to get the taste of bear-crap out of your mouth, but none of the drawbacks of artificial colourings that turn your fingers orange and send you a little bit mad for a while.
Office outing started at lunchtime yesterday and I think that in between the polite chatter and nibbles I may have dropped the occasional clanger. Certainly if your definition of sexual harassment is broad there might be a case made, and a humorous remark about having a previous career in goat insemination led to some surprising revelations from others.
Colleagues faded, there was a move to a pub, then a gay bar (que Electric 6). This was not my idea but was the idea of one chap who is so far in denial he may even find the fabled source. As he bopped his lonely self to thumping disco beats and I stood there in mortified silence, I considered that he may think himself as the sort of fellow who visits these places in an ironic way, or because he likes the music, (and that in itself is horrible enough, there’s nothing worse than a condescending sex tourist) but what he actually likes is tight shirts, trousers and, I strongly suspect, a cock up his arse.
When he finally admits this, he’ll be a lot happier, although his girlfriend probably won’t.
Evening ended with my toddling my pissed way home. Christ knows what I was drinking but I woke up at two this morning reasonably confident I was actually having a brain haemorrhage. Working out that I was simply the victim of poisoning at my own hand, I lay there miserable.
It’s going to be about four before I’m back to normal, whatever that is. In the meantime, I shall continue popping the pills and feeling slightly odd.
Never again, etc.
Office outing started at lunchtime yesterday and I think that in between the polite chatter and nibbles I may have dropped the occasional clanger. Certainly if your definition of sexual harassment is broad there might be a case made, and a humorous remark about having a previous career in goat insemination led to some surprising revelations from others.
Colleagues faded, there was a move to a pub, then a gay bar (que Electric 6). This was not my idea but was the idea of one chap who is so far in denial he may even find the fabled source. As he bopped his lonely self to thumping disco beats and I stood there in mortified silence, I considered that he may think himself as the sort of fellow who visits these places in an ironic way, or because he likes the music, (and that in itself is horrible enough, there’s nothing worse than a condescending sex tourist) but what he actually likes is tight shirts, trousers and, I strongly suspect, a cock up his arse.
When he finally admits this, he’ll be a lot happier, although his girlfriend probably won’t.
Evening ended with my toddling my pissed way home. Christ knows what I was drinking but I woke up at two this morning reasonably confident I was actually having a brain haemorrhage. Working out that I was simply the victim of poisoning at my own hand, I lay there miserable.
It’s going to be about four before I’m back to normal, whatever that is. In the meantime, I shall continue popping the pills and feeling slightly odd.
Never again, etc.
1 Comments:
Well, it's T-12 hours until I'm officially celebrating my friend's bday in Raleigh, NC. I've never been to Raleigh, but I imagine that I should start taking the Tylenol now. It's going to be FUN FUN FUN and unlike at the crappy wedding I went to last weekend, I am bound to get CAKE!
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