That was the weekend that was.
2003-01-20 at 7:50 a.m.

 

I am so tired. Apart from last night I saw the sun start to come up before I went to bed this weekend.

And I had the hangover to end all hangovers on Saturday. No really. Friday night we went to the pub, de regieur on a Friday. Stayed later than we normally do. When we got home I decided that it would be a good idea for us to stay up until the early hours of the morning and play chess. And I drank 2 bottles of strong red wine in the process.

Can I just say, even thinking back, ow, ow, ow, fucking ow. Everytime I moved my head on Saturday it felt like my brain was bouncing around inside it. And there were no painkillers in the house. Everyone, it is a BIG mistake to let your medicine cupboard run down. It really, really is. So not only did I hurt, but I had to get dressed and go out to find a way of fixing it.

Instead of learning my lesson I went out Saturday night as well. Still, that was Mr Me's birthday thing. Which was cool. He got a chocolate firework. Neat huh? But like the fucking retards we are when we drink, we've lost it.

Overall it was kind of good, kind of bad. There was a live band which was wicked fun, but I think I freaked the bassist out as I kept staring at his hands. Well, he kept changing basslines, so I wanted to have a look at what he was doing.

On the bad side, I think people are about to let themselves down. This depresses me. My pub used to be a haven of good, happy, fun things. Now, well it's not. I don't really want to go into this too much, but most of the time I don't even want to go there anymore. Everytime I do I keep hearing bad things about the people I like. From a very good friend of mine. Mr Me doesn't believe most of it. I, personally, think I'm somewhere between a rock and a hard place. Either I believe my friend and end up not wanting to be around any of them anymore. Possibly including my friend. Or I don't. And feel bad about not believing her.

Fuck it. I don't know what to do.