I don't wanna be here.

I just read Paulina's blog, and because I'm too drunk right now, templating her blog entry and making it my own is the only thing I can comprehesively write right now. My usual idea of a Friday night and a weekend are quite fucked up in that retail -i-worked-fucked-up-hours-so-i'm-impossible-to-have-a-relationship-with sort of way. Friday night is usually spent either working, or drinking. Sometimes both.

The drinking eventuates from the realisation that you have to work the next day. Every week. Friday nights consist of shielding ones self from scary drunken customers who hit on you, no matter whether gay, straight, bi or Thai. They're all so drunk stumbling from the Gin Palace or Cookie, that they don't realise/care whether you have a fanny of a cock. Get fucked. After locking up, I try to make sure the girl gets home safely, walking her or driving her to her car... No that I'm really one to pull out the Bruce Lee moves myself, but I'm Asian and kinda crazy, so it counts for something... After that, it's Sarti, or Hairy, or a bottle of red at home, depending on the stress levels.

Upon getting home, it's stripping off and steadily dropping myself into bed. Saturday morning rolls around and it's off to work. Usually wearing my tuxedo suit as it's dress up day and I want to look different from the rest of the staff. Black or white shirt, doesn't really matter. No tie. Three buttons undone. Fucking hussy.

Saturday night and it's time to hit the town... Thank God for Sunday. Bitch. You got it great. Come work on a Saturday for a change. Love you.

Another glass would be great, thanks.


PunkOnAir : Natalie Imbruglia - When You're Sleeping