no sleep later
Its twenty past five in the morning and I have woke with coffee like alertness, which is unusual because I put away two bottles of wine at the pub last night. On my own. I also solved the quandary arising from Blind Date Girl last night, by ignoring her, throughout the evening she sat next to me for what was the best part of three hours and we only spoke about three sentences to each other. To be completely fair to me she made no effort to instigate conversation either, despite being only a foot away. I suppose this leaves me to chase Girl From Work relatively guilt free, which is good because I find myself more and more attracted to her- well attracted enough for me to snub a very cute girl who liked me, I think.
The shadow of my birthday is looming closer and I will be expected to celebrate its passing with some kind of “do”, why I would want to mark my crawling ever closer to my eventual death is beyond me, but people seem to be quite adamant about it. Before last night it was quite a tricky situation- whether to invite both girls and let them fight over me, in baby oil, prison style. Or have two simultaneous birthday drinks going in neighbouring pubs and bounce between the two with “hilarious” sit-com style consequences.
It’s still dead of night dark outside with the black silhouettes focussed against the mist that’s turning the distant view into a black orange blur, my dad will be up for work soon wondering why his eldest son has already enjoyed his second cup of tea.
It’s exactly five hours and no sleep later and I’m sitting on a bus. In a lot of ways being very tired is a lot like being drunk, your concentration is shot, your judgement impaired and reaction time is slowed way down, but as a extra bonus with tiredness you get funny little hallucinations, admittedly its not helped by a pair of identical twins getting on the bus- why do identical twins dress the same? Its freaky with normal brains but when deprived of sleep its just plain wrong, I was really worried at one point because I thought their Australian accent was some weird twin language they had developed through years of abuse, and out of the corner of my eye it looked like they were pointing at me when they thought I wasn’t looking.
The shadow of my birthday is looming closer and I will be expected to celebrate its passing with some kind of “do”, why I would want to mark my crawling ever closer to my eventual death is beyond me, but people seem to be quite adamant about it. Before last night it was quite a tricky situation- whether to invite both girls and let them fight over me, in baby oil, prison style. Or have two simultaneous birthday drinks going in neighbouring pubs and bounce between the two with “hilarious” sit-com style consequences.
It’s still dead of night dark outside with the black silhouettes focussed against the mist that’s turning the distant view into a black orange blur, my dad will be up for work soon wondering why his eldest son has already enjoyed his second cup of tea.
It’s exactly five hours and no sleep later and I’m sitting on a bus. In a lot of ways being very tired is a lot like being drunk, your concentration is shot, your judgement impaired and reaction time is slowed way down, but as a extra bonus with tiredness you get funny little hallucinations, admittedly its not helped by a pair of identical twins getting on the bus- why do identical twins dress the same? Its freaky with normal brains but when deprived of sleep its just plain wrong, I was really worried at one point because I thought their Australian accent was some weird twin language they had developed through years of abuse, and out of the corner of my eye it looked like they were pointing at me when they thought I wasn’t looking.
posted by Puck at 2:27 PM
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