You know that 30 seconds when you first wake up after a big night? You’ve woken up but you don’t think you’ll be capable of processing whats on the other side of sleep crusted, smoke stained eyeballs. Nothing’s real until you finally open your eyes so you try and keep them closed for as long as possible.
He yells again. This time with vehemence.
“Dude, wake the fuck up!”
I open my eyes and use all my jedi mind powers to toss my roommate out of my apartment window whilst crushing his larynx.
Him-“Where’s the rent money?”
Me-“On the kitchen like always, now please fuck right off”
Him-“Man it’s really not there, you sure it’s not somewhere else?”
Me- ” Definitely there. Get me panadol”
Him -“Did you bring someone home last night?”
Me-“PANADOL. No, I’m fairly sure I’d remember if I….Oh shit”
The cool damp realization hit me, as images of the previous night started coming back.
I was playing at some shitty club near my apartment. I couldn’t beg borrow or steal a companion to come and get drunk with me so I went solo. Going to night clubs on your own is for date-rapers and … well i can’t think of anyone else that would go to a nightclub on their own so yeah only date-rapers. But if I had to go solo that meant one thing. I was getting drunk. Seriously drunk.
I played for 3 hrs ish to a crowd that would have been better fitted as insulation in a Auschwitz gas chamber. So asides from judging the prepubescent fist pumpers and females that left fluorescent fake tan trails across the crowded dance floor, I had very little to do to entertain myself. Except drink of course. And that I did.
It progressed from pints, to jacks and cokes to double jacks and cokes to tequila and somewhere around there it gets a tad hazy. Along this path of self destruction I met someone that I didn’t completely loath on sight. She was blonde, had a euro-trash haircut and lo-and-behold whispered “Hello” in that oh so attractive Swedish lilt. Stevie Wonder couldn’t have sung it better. We were going home together, there was no competition in sight and I was pissed as parrot with more confidence than aboriginal in a court case.
So, the club closed and my nonsensical whispers of sweet nothings must have won her over. I probably told her I was the only heir of some oil tycoon with a penthouse apartment and a porsche but I actually remember none of what was said or even what her name was. Prince Charming incarnate.
I do remember getting back to the apartment, stumbling through the door towards my bedroom. The clothes were off in flash and then I slowly take off her panties and then…..
The whole night plays out before my eyes in the exact moment that I realized that I am soaking wet in bed while my roommate looks down with his judging eyes. It’s at this point that the proverbial currency falls. I am swimming in a giant puddle of my piss. I can only assume that I’ve blacked out my lovely Swedish guest mid coitus and then in the throws of passion…started snoring and pissed all over/in her.
She must have then evacuated the water bed in disgust to tried to vent her anger. Once I’m out there is nothing that will wake me so after discovering this fact she would have looked to perform her vengeance elsewhere and stole my rent money but nothing else. In reality I would have done a whole heap of fucked up shit if some bitch passed out and pissed in my bed so I got off lightly. Moral of the story? Don’t go drinking alone.
- July 18 2012 | - Read More →