A Great Day to Remember
most of the time ill finish the drink but sometimes ill threw it in the air and sing, singing in the rain just to feel a bit whimsical
A day to remember
Most of my commute, I don't remember because they are so traumatic, and I’ve often shat myself or been sick. No one wants to remember the time you shat yourself on the tube or otherwise up on the tracks. Not my best moment, but it’s up there in gut-wrenching situations. I felt like a hamster on death doors. shitting my insides out. And like a hamster, you can just shove the inside back in and bring that hamster back to life. Every time you soil yourself, I think you lose bits of yourself. Enough talk on that. This is a monumental day to remember and not because I didn't flush the brown waterfall, but because I just did, and that's enough.
After a night of heavy drinking ( I mean two pints, I’m a lightweight), but to me that's a lot, and you will think otherwise, I don't judge you for that. More I respect the ability you have, some may call it a superpower to drink that much, but I just call it being human in this world. Not saying I’m not that, but saying I aspire to be like that, and if that makes me an up and coming alcoholic I’ll take it. Strive to be better. Don't worry, be tispy. Anyway, around 10 pm, I thought the lights would go out soon. Either the lamp posts turn off, or I just sleep here, happy whatever, as long as I get enough sleep. I often don't, so here’s to me being a moron. When I go out, I often feel like at a certain point my brain goes, be gone. And so I do. I just say bye and fuck off. Even if I have half a pint left, I just follow my instincts into the unknown. Most of the time, I’ll finish the drink, but sometimes I'll throw it in the air and sing, singing in the rain just to feel a bit whimsical.
I left this pub with the determination to get home in the best way possible. Which is quite hard when you are like me and try to make every commute different. I think I’m a few pub crawls away from hopping to London Bridge just to see what it’s like. Wow, that was a low blow. I decided on this commute to walk, which then turned into a run. I thought, why not run, and so I did, as in my mind, procrastination holds everyone back, so don't think about what you want to do and just do it, which is great for professional development, but I don't think it was meant for a drunk man running in jeans. And the way I run, I wish it were more elegant than it is. I sort of look like a penguin that mated with a two-prop plane. which is a sight you cannot imagine, I’m guessing. Keep on working.
I was running for a good 20 minutes, I was dripping with sweat, and I was loving every second of it until I said to myself why am I running. Could this be early-onset dementia, or am I just really indecisive? Why do something if you don't enjoy it? again meant for the working environment and not for a man in jeans running down the road screaming thYMCAca and of course doing the dance. I give 3 shits less than most.
I couldn't make up my mind about what I wanted to have for dinner,r so I chose the two best options. a meal deal and a sushi, and just combined the two so I could live in luxury. Ever had sushi and adonera kebab? Both items have strong chances of giving me food poisoning, but I was killing two birds with one stone. A combination no one of sound mind should ever put together. But you will come to realise I was onto something. I won’t explain as I think this is one action speaks louder than words. i.e., rice, salmon, seaweed and kebab will change your life. Or I was too drunk to be fussy.
Anyways, after that delight,t I turned to the snack portion of this tasting menu. I had picked a scotch egg and some chips. I wasn't going to combine. What do you think of me? i’m no animal. I unwrapped the scotch egg and then dropped the bloody thing. My conclusion was that it is acceptable to eat the egg from the scotch egg, as technically it didn't touch the floor. Or is that out of bounds?
Someone asked me, well, if you dropped a pastie on the floor, would you eat the inside? My response was: In times of need, I wouldn't have cutlery to spare, so am I to assume I would rip this pastie open and scoop the inside out, or am I expected to make a cut in the pastry and suck the insides out, which I would describe as regurgitating special fried rice with no help from chewing or water.
So I ate the scotch egg.
I felt it was ok. I then got off the train and proceeded to sprint up the ramp out of the station to get the only bloody taxi. The man saw me coming and had rolled down the window, and I dived in.
Of course, I didn't, that's absurd, but I did tell him my address, and he went, where, and I said here, and he said we are here, and I said what. at this point, an elderly gentleman was emerging from the station. I shouted the name of my road and jumped in. In all this uncertainty from my food choices, I felt it was in everyone’s best interest to see myself get home as fast as physically possible before I inevitably recycle everything I’ve just eaten.