I think we can all gather what this blog post will involve, and the reason why there was so little done today so, from the top. I awoke at around nine AM, so that’s a plus point, at least there’s progress in that area huh? After the customary freezing sprint to my closet I dredged downstairs, still sleep addled and attempted to cook something… attempted being the operative word there.
The house was pretty bare, I’ve not been out to do the shopping in a long while so it looked as if I was going to have to settle for omelette… again. I don’t mind omelettes, but if you’re going to have them day in and day out, you’ve got to have something with them: cheese, tomato, ham, anything other than plain old egg!
Disappointing breakfast out of the way I sat down for a little while and received a phone call from my counselor, or rather soon to be counselor. It was pretty standard, baseline questions again, assessing whether I’m a danger to myself or anyone around me (which I’m not for posterity’s sake) and I thought nothing of it really, so they’ve put me on a list for some supplies to help with the depression and they’ve referred me to another help center called ”The Marketplace”.
Apparently, these new people specialize in helping young people with mental health issues, young people who are, as of the day, above eighteen, so young adults in reality. Now I’ve not had a wealth of mental help before but I have yet to try these people out, so I’ll be certain to try them and leave them a good or bad write up, dependent on the quality of their service.
The productivity for today ends here, and the embarrassment begins.
Long story short, a friend called me and asked me whether I wanted to go out, I thought it would be healthy and a few hours later we’re sat inside the Bierkeller and I’m staring down eight pints of cider…
The first four went down without a hitch and I really rather enjoyed them, I’m more of a spirit drinker in reality but that’s just because I don’t like necking copious amounts of liquid… and whiskey is rather nice. The fifth and sixth pint were a little more troublesome and that’s when I hit the wall, a few swigs into the seventh pint I was done- I was R E K T wrecked!
I stumbled out of the bar with my hand covering my mouth and quickly,
yet sneakily, staggered like a pissed fart around the back of the building, arched against a wall and proceeded to vomit into a grate for thirty minutes, it’s at moments like these where I remember why i only drink spirits and wine.
THERE’S LESS BLOODY LIQUID TO VOMIT BACK UP.
So after this I hopped in a taxi home, who’m I almost vomited on, and then proceeded to sleep, cradling the porcelain throne for about ten hours. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
All in all, a good night out, I just didn’t pace myself well enough, but, fortunately by that time, most people were leaving anyway- got away scott free!