Rantings of an alcoholic-holiday-addict

Bank Holiday Monday.
Noon. Sun shone on my face as I took the tube to work.
Yes, work on a bank holiday. grrr.
Evening 5pm. Raining cats n dogs outside.
Looks like a storm is coming. Crazy London weather.

Sunday afternoon.
Lazing in bed with Alberto.
We stared at the ceiling,
and pondered on our future, our lives.
When are we gonna get real jobs, that earn us big bucks.
Frens around us are all professionals, climbing up corporate ladders.
Wat about us?
I tell myself, yeh, at least we are travelling around alot
making the most of our time here.
Note: At least we are very happy.
Happily together.

Friday evening. Finished work.
On my way home. Still feeling pukey *Note-pls read below to find out why*
Waited 10 fuckin' minutes for the bus.
Had to squeeze up the bus with thousands other pple.
Bus-driver kindly asked old african guy to move in to let others get on bus.
Squeals of vulgarities came his way. No good.
African woman behind me decided to help out. Blamed it on pregnant woman with huge push-trolleys stuck at the doorway.
More vulgarities. Bad.
I felt like puking in the bus. Worst.

Thursday morning - Skipped work.
Severe hangover from previous nite of excessive drinking (on an empty stomach)
Made Alberto upset. ;(
Spanish exam last evening. Did well, celebrated with classmates, had a wacky gd time.
Susan - (32-yr-old?!) lawyer made me crazily drunk by her incessant ordering of Shiraz.
Richard - Kiwi guy (did Masters in Singapore?!) picked me up when i fell and bruised my knee badly. lol.
Had loadsa fun.. a guy came n talked to me, gave me his Barclays card. Chey.
Spent entire Thursday puking my guts out, trying to force soup into my system, bt out it came.

Yes! my best frens are coming the day after tomorrow
how else to celebrate 'cept wine, beer and more alcohol .. *sigh*
oh! of course.. we gotta open the Ouzo we bought from Greece. ah..