After a weekend of remembering the Anzac’s by drinking away my memory (an intriguing oxymoron) and pleasing a friend who just wanted to help me get laid (which failed, not like I would of remembered anyway)…I have come to the decision that the month of May will be a dry one for me.
Dad will sigh with relief but won’t probably know what to do with all the extra beer and red wine around the house.
And what does one do if not a drooling vegetable sitting in front of the TV all Sunday trying to remember the previous night, and when you get a flash, wish you didn’t?
Oh, now I’m making it sound all bad. Had a good weekend, but I’m intrigued to have a good weekend without the physical and emotional pain for the week following…cause work is bad enough without having to deal with self-inflicted pain. And no one is very comforting when it’s self inflicted…insert bleary eyed pouting.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
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