Alcohol + Brain = Forget

I went out last night.

The Exported Stuff

Gotta love the exported stuff.

Work’s been particularly crap lately and the dump I live in is getting me down (I know it’s a self-inflicted misery – if I picked up a paintbrush and some emulsion the place would be better), so I thought, fuck it. Night on the town. Live it large. (Or at least live it medium …)

I’d like to tell you where I went and what the place was like but I can’t really remember many details. I drove the car into town and I met my friend at our regular, but aside from that it’s a bit of a blur. Must have been a good night right?

The car wasn’t where I left it. Over-tipped a cab driver back at the apartment, so I know I didn’t drive home. When I dragged my arse out of bed I called Billy (names have been changed and all that) to see if the car was still there. He laughed at me and said it wasn’t.

What the fuck? I must have driven it somewhere else, but I don’t usually drink and drive. I guess it’ll surface somewhere. I’ll go look for it tomorrow.

I think someone made breakfast in my kitchen before I got up. There was stuff around the place. Didn’t look like something I’d done – after all these years I recognise my pig-sty mess. Is it really bad that I’m not sure what happened? I mean maybe there’s some girl out there all mad at me for not waking up and making her feel at home or something. Or she was as wasted as me this morning and didn’t remember how she got to be in this broken down palace with an Irish tramp and hot-tailed it before I started showing signs of life, haha.

My shoulder hurts.