Saturday, August 30, 2003
Last night:
Went out to the pub after work as three people were leaving. There are about 4 half-way interesting people at my work, two of them were there, but talking to other people. So, I end up speaking to the most boring man in the world, a quiet-talker, who made his six months travelling in Africa sound extremely tedious. Of course his name was Kevin. Actually, to be fair it was Jeff. Either way. So... I bought some cigarettes. And smoked them. Shit. It got better though. Notes I made:
- Cardboard cut out for England matches - Live the dream. Players were Mills, Beattie, Alan Smith and Emile Heskey.
- Of course talking to Betti - touching her hair a lot. Hmmm.
- 4 pints by 8pm, it's going to be a good night.
Go to meet James, go to Client with Jo and Leila. They were as pleasingly mediocre as ever. Client A was awesome. Obviously. She's cemented her place in my top 5 women of all time, ever. Of course I was right at the front in the middle.
Went to Underworld. Was good. A girl forced me to dance with her. I performed a few perfunctory twirls and made good my escape.
Whilst walking to the bus stop I brushed shoulders with someone. I happen to turn round, he turns around, suddenly he's all in my face and shit. I put my hand up to try and keep him back a bit and he headbuts me. Then his mate punches me in the face. Then we go our separate ways. This is the second time I've been hit for no reason, and both times I've been disappointed by my calm. I was all like, "hey mate, calm down, no reason to hit me", rather than hitting back. Maybe I'm more Christian than I think. Or not.
Sure do have a black eye today. My top sure is covered in dried blood.
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Went out to the pub after work as three people were leaving. There are about 4 half-way interesting people at my work, two of them were there, but talking to other people. So, I end up speaking to the most boring man in the world, a quiet-talker, who made his six months travelling in Africa sound extremely tedious. Of course his name was Kevin. Actually, to be fair it was Jeff. Either way. So... I bought some cigarettes. And smoked them. Shit. It got better though. Notes I made:
- Cardboard cut out for England matches - Live the dream. Players were Mills, Beattie, Alan Smith and Emile Heskey.
- Of course talking to Betti - touching her hair a lot. Hmmm.
- 4 pints by 8pm, it's going to be a good night.
Go to meet James, go to Client with Jo and Leila. They were as pleasingly mediocre as ever. Client A was awesome. Obviously. She's cemented her place in my top 5 women of all time, ever. Of course I was right at the front in the middle.
Went to Underworld. Was good. A girl forced me to dance with her. I performed a few perfunctory twirls and made good my escape.
Whilst walking to the bus stop I brushed shoulders with someone. I happen to turn round, he turns around, suddenly he's all in my face and shit. I put my hand up to try and keep him back a bit and he headbuts me. Then his mate punches me in the face. Then we go our separate ways. This is the second time I've been hit for no reason, and both times I've been disappointed by my calm. I was all like, "hey mate, calm down, no reason to hit me", rather than hitting back. Maybe I'm more Christian than I think. Or not.
Sure do have a black eye today. My top sure is covered in dried blood.
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