I'll tell you, it's been a tough week. Candles being burnt at both ends to form me, a waxy mass of messiness on the floor of a room in Foxborough.
I'll begin last Tuesday, when a fresher faced version of me left Setanta Central for the Screen cinema. Myself and Julianne were to see Broken Flowers. The one thing I can grant this film is watchability, and Bill Murray could be cast as a showgirl in a third rate Broadway musical and I'd still relish every raised eyebrow.
The film itself was a bore, however. Murray looks forlorn - girlfriend leaves him - he may have a son from a previous relationship - he takes a nondescript trip through Americana (none of the lushness of Sideways on this jaunt, just complete blandness) to meet some ex-girlfriends and discern if one of them is the mother - looks forlorn - does the bold thing with one of them - gets beaten up - looks forlorn - ends. I wouldn't mind, but there's no sense of conclusion about the film at all. Disappointing.
Anyway, to Pizza Stop with us then and that was finest, minimum intake of alkihawl and home to the bed.
Wednesday: Work (nondescript) and then Emma's birthday in Glasnevin/Phibsboro. I had fully intended not to drink, or to have only one or two and then onto the dry, but my defences crumbled at the presence of PP, stander upper of a few weeks hence. Managed to keep decorum to the max, though, despite many Temple Braus, and last I remember was propping up the bar in Clarkes with John O'Brien, a pal of yore and capital man.
Even managed a few words with the little wench, it would have been below me to get thick. Good job.
Thursday: Woke up with six heads. Not like me to get hangovers, but the thought of work and lager beer married together to such a hedonistic degree turned my stomach, especially knowing I'd have to do it all again tonight. So I headed as far as Sheehans to meet Denise and Lynn. David Maher caught wind of this and it was all over. Add JJ Raftery and Julianne to the mix and revelry was the result.
Got pretty shit-faced.
Queer end to the night as myself, John and Dave found ourselves advanced upon by the drunkest young one I've ever seen in my life. The other girls had all skidaddled at this stage, so it was left to us boys to discern the young lush's address, with Dave nobly putting her in a taxi and sending her wherever... The boys went on to Doyles, I just went home.
Friday: Raf's leaving to work in England, so we had to send him off with a degree of style. One sexy cowgirl combo later and we're in the Long Stone. Good aul turn out for everybody's number one numpty! Come 12.30 or so, however, and I was feeling the weight of a week of waywardness, decided to switch to water and by 1am I was homeward bound.
Saturday: Got up and endeavoured to charm the culottes off Edel's sister Karen, a spirited young one if ever there was one. I was in rare hungover form as we picked up Trousers and decided to re-drunken to the tune of Liverpool's 2-0 win over the Hammers. Eventually I had to shout "NO MORE!" as I staggered to bed around ten bells.
So that's what I've been up to.