Last night I decided to go into work and have dinner, either because I’m not there enough or because I’m just obsessive. Dinner and wine led to vodka and wine, and then a taxi into the night club district with a straight Danish builder and a gay Norwegian film maker. I got annoyed with the Dane for teling others that I had been doing lines (I drink and that’s all) and had to explain to him that he shouldn’t make a joke like that in a place like that because some people actualy do those sort of thing, which is why the people I was talking to took him serious.

After dancing on the tops of some tables I some how lost the Dane and Norge. Apparently I decided it was a good idea to cal my boss at this stage. Judging from the stamps on my arm I then decided to go into another night club. I remember little of it, but I do recall the bartender refusing to serve me.

I don’t remember the taxi ride home, but I do recall getting out of the cab because this is when I twisted my ankle and fell on the broken glass bottle. Somehow I managed to let myself into my place and clean the wound. I woke up earlier today and have been at work since, on my swollen and strapped ankle all day.

My problem is that when I drink I drink too much, so I’m going dry.

Related posts:
mmmMonday!
Friday night, I had a date
6:45 am (apparently)
decoding yesterday’s post
t.g.i.f. but if only i wasn’t hangover (wow, I can really ramble sometimes)

Written by Adrian on 19.05.07 at 8:55 am.