tooth soup

Emily’s 21st last night was pretty cool. Cian and I had previously decided that we were going to just make an appearance and leave shortly afterward – her because there was some conversationalist issues between herself and Bec/Em. I because, in short, I was completely burned out from lack of sleep. However, as internal vows have a rabid habit of doing, these were soon broken as I bought a bottle of Bacardi and played catch-up successfully (the definition of successful being that I didn’t throw up on myself again). We sat around (Kane, Pete, Bec, Em, Cian and I) and essentially drank ’til we crashed. Not what you’d call a pumping 21st but it was a good atmosphere and laughs and hilarity did occur with startling voracity. Everyone pretty much passed out around 3am – Cian and Kane on the couches, Bec and Pete on their mattress and Em and I in her bed.

“I beg your pardon,” I hear you say with a startled expression on your face, “I thought you were neutral, null-and-void and over the subject of Emily?“. Yes, well. Apparently not. Maybe it was just the fact that I’ve been feeling especially left out of late and missing those basic physical comforts such as hugging another person. I don’t feel bad about it, though I know some people (namely Cian) will not be very impressed with me. I justify myself by saying that I’m good most of the time – if I want to indulge every now and again it is entirely my prerogative. I don’t see myself being hurt because as Em herself said last night “There’s no promises about tomorrow.” At least she’s honest, and I respect that.

So that pseudo-guilty piece of information out of the way – today is housebitch day. I am cleaning up my room, storing some stuff in the shed, perhaps cleaning the toilet/bathroom and going to work at five o’clock.
Better get back to that then,
Adios.

*EDIT* I was reading the fantastic Ray Bradbury the other day and a particularly interesting fact popped out of the book and hit me with a strange irony. Apparently (and this is someting that might not deserve that pre-assumption of apparentness) every single one of your cells are recycled every nine years, i.e. technically speaking you are a new person every nine years. This struck me as interesting as in a year I will be a completely different person from the one that started high school. Which means my higher education would have been completed by a different person than the one that gets the degree. I wonder if he’ll appreciate it?

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