I am so damn embarrased. I wish for merciful death. I am a monumental fuckup. I want to find a rock in Siberia, crawl under it, and live out the rest of my days in obscurity. I want to cling tightly to my girlfriend and forget the cruel world. These are the five thoughts that are currently competing for attention in my head, buzzing around, bumping into each other, trying to get out, causing this bloody headache… Then again, the headache might be caused by the alcohol imbied yesterday, I’m not sure.
Yes. I did go for a pint yesterday, oh boy, did I indeed. After dumping the trusty white steed at home I met Simich at Tauko, where I attracted a ton of amazed attention that I so craved from the rockers/punks/goths/winos with my flashy exec-o-gear, and the booze started flowing. One thing about drinking with Simich or Bonus. They like it. A lot. They can drink. A lot. And they can hold their liquor. Then they always get crazy ideas about continuing drinking at some expensive places downtown, work be damned. And I am pretty damn easy to string along when I’m drunk and have plenty of disposable income… So we visited 5 bars all in all, Tauko, Kustaa Vaasa, Iltakoulu, Aussie Bar, and Onnela. I haven’t checked my bank account yet, and to be honest I’d really rather not. I know I had 50€ in cash on me, and that appears to have vanished. I must have taken a cab home, too. Not that I remember it.
But all things considered it was fun. We got roaring drunk with Simich, and then did Borat impressions at people downtown. It was hilarious! I would stagger up to strangers and ask inane questions with an atrocious accent, like “Hai, ekskwuze mi, I fram Rassha, wher I can get hukers?” or “Yeshkemesh, zis city, she big, no?”, and so on. The reactions some people displayed were nothing short of awesome. And the last time we did that we bumped into some pakistani fellow who was on a corporate outing from Nokia or something, and he told us he’d show us the best place in town, seeing as we were “tourists” from “Rassha”. Or from “Nefteskvazhinsk city” to be precise. The imbecile brought us to Onnela, of all places, and got us in past the hundred meter queue by flashing his Royal VIP card. That was supposed to impress us, apparently, and we did act it out ok, I think. Thing is, I have the exact same card, Royal Business VIP, courtesy of the office. And besides, Onnela sucks. He might have bought us drinks, though, although I am kind of hazy on that. Onnela is where my memory abruptly shuts down…
I got home somehow, though. Ate candy, as is evidenced by the candy wrappers, and fell asleep. I also think I threw up, because the porceline throne displays a scattered pattern of puke droplets. So what’s the big deal, you might ask? I mean sure, I drank too much, I may have spent too much, but I do that a few times a month anyway. I didn’t do anything too stupid, I didn’t fall, stumble or get into troube with the cops, I didn’t get into a fight… But. I did something that might even be worse than that. I didn’t get up for work. I slept in. I woke up from the furious intercom buzzing, the secretary from work was sent to wake me up. It was 10:30. I was two and a half hours late for my appointment at the damn Ministery, of all places. The fucking Ministery! Oh God. Oh dear fucking God in heavens. My phone died during the night, apparently. It didn’t ring or sound the alarm, although to be honest I doubt that I would have woken up anyway. I remember that I tried to extricate myself already at Iltakoulu, after three or four beers, but blasted Simich dragged me along anyway. All his fault, hmph. Oh, and what crowned the evening? I get out, and start looking for my car. It isn’t where I left it. It’s parked half way on the roadside grass, and I don’t even remember moving it. Jesus. At least I didn’t dent it.
Sigh. I think girly is right, I might have a little drinking problem. Maybe I should tone it down a bit. So ok, links and then I go home and burrow under the blanket. Here’s a good idea. Bellyflop on to 12 inches of water from 35 feet. And then world’s most modified guy, you know, that creepy cat guy. Then read here why disasters are getting worse, according to Time. Last but not least, a pic of our home from 50 million kilometers away! Awesome. I wish I were 50 million kilometers away.