What a day - 12/11/2001 in Opendiary Archive
- Nov. 17, 2014, 11:09 a.m.
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- Public
Well It’s official. My weekend sucked.
I’m not just talking sucked in that “oh I have work to do, and I have done it” style, though certainly, that is true. No, I mean sucked with a capital suck. A suck so sucky a vacuum couldn’t achieve it.
Why have I had this fantastic weekend, you ask? Allow me to illuminate the situation for you.
I woke up on saturday, and realised I felt like death warmed up. The glands on my throat are up, which is always a sign I’m going to be hit by a doozy of an illness.
So I crawled out of bed, feeling like I’d been buried with my head packed full of cotton wool, and realised I have a tonne of work to do that day. Non of which, I immediately concluded, was going to be achieved.
In order to make myself feel better, I enlisted Steve to come and indulge in a little retail therapy. We head off, and I buy a computer game. Steve buys a mcDonalds. Moron.
So we head up to the library to play on the Net, and we’re sitting there, quite comfortably, when Steve suddenly starts seeming a little down. The period of depression, strangely coincides with some text messages he’s been getting.
I’m wondering what’s going on, because Steve has to go, and things seem wrong. So I ask him.
What you’re about to read is very similar to the game with a pea and three cups. Pay close attention.
Steve has been going out with a girl called Rachel, whom he lives with. They have broken up recently, because Steve did not believe their relationship to be working. They resolved to still be friends.
Rachel and Steve are both mates with Hal, who used to bone Rachel but now lives with some other lass.
They were all very good friends, but what happened has ut some considerable strain on that friendship.
Steve told Hal some stuff (I’m not sure what, everyone is giving me different stories), which Hal told Rachel. That’s really all I know. That and now everyone is angry.
Sadness.
So, three of my friends are having stressy fits. Damn them. And if that wasn’t bad enough, on saturday night, just as I was looking forward to kicking back and chilling, Claire comes around with the bloke called Gary. Gary immediately gets drunk and passes out on the chair in my living room. Fine, I think.
But when it’s time to go, the cunt won’t wake up. So after half an hour of trying slapping, tickling, punching, kicking, and other such stuff, we decide to sit him in an upright position. This works, because the guy then leaps to his feet, and proceeds to threaten to kill me. If sober, I’d have no problem with fighting, but I don’t like fighting drunk people, because the next day, they don’t remember.
So basically, I tell him I’m not going to fight, and he fucks off. But Claire seems to think it’s her fault, and this makes me feel bad. So sunday night, she goes for a wander, not telling anyone where, and basically tell gary to fuck off. Fair enough except Gary’s a fucking psycho.
I feel bad. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel like I’m partly responsible.
Why is nothing ever easy?
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