If there was award for the bloke with the worst luck in birthday parties.....it'd be mine! Every time!
Yesterday was a day of fucking mayhem that belies belief. You'd think having a few reprobate mates over for a birthday was a recipe for a good time? This should be a rhetorical question, but in my case I feel compelled to answer - NO FUCKING WAY! Instead it's a recipe for complete and utter fuck ups that lead to broken furniture, people who get so shit-faced they won't go home until you literally kick them up the fucking arse and finally for turning what, had in the first instance, been a good time into a debacle of the first fucking order! So for me...it's not a rhetorical question at all!
Being horribly depressed (about that little thing called life) and the fact that I still seem to keep waking up each day when really all I want to do is fall a-fucking-sleep and stay a-fucking-sleep means that I rarely, if ever, see an 'up' side to anything. The biggest up side of most days is seeing the bottom of the next can of beer. That's the kind of 'up' side that I can generally relate to - at least in my waking hours.
Which brings me onto a short digression - aren't nightmares supposed to happen when you're asleep? And if there's even a hint of truth in that statement, then why do mine keep happening when I'm awake? Answers on postcard please to: Fruitcakes Anonymous, PO Box Up my Nose with a Rubber Hose, Hell on Earth 666
Here's my feet looking distinctly the worse for wear!
And here's my hand about to guide a cold one into my ever-thirsty gob! I think I had a fag in the other one!
The party was held at another mates place and was all going well till two of the guys hit that point of no return.....you know what I mean......that place where one minute you can still talk (reasonably) lucidly and stand without help, and the next minute you can't fucking talk, stand, do any-fucking-thing at all without making a complete balls-up of it! For example, the simple act of sitting down becomes a battle of attrition with your disobedient legs, particularly if you weigh as much as fucking baby elephant and have the co-ordination of a newborn foal on acid with its' head stuck on back-to-front! The result: broken fucking furniture. And what's more it wasn't even my fucking furniture. Mines all fucked anyway so he could've broken away with impunity, but to start smashing up someone's house when they've been good enough to invite you round for a party is more than tad fucking off, know what I mean? And then, as if to veneer and varnish the point, you show how 'I was just fucking sitting down' and 'not trying to break things' by doing the exact same fucking stupid-arse thing you've already done with the inevitable consequence of further breakages, and to top it all off, you do it a THIRD time whilst spouting out the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard, 'look, all I did was this....and it fucking broke! Twice! Oops! Three times!'
The cunt!
After all that he took umbrage (such a lovely word) because everyone else was asking him why he was behaving like a cunt and he fucked off leaving pieces and splinters of furniture all over the pissing shop! What the fuck!
Amazingly....the guy having the biggest fit about all this was shortly to become an even bigger problem than the first guy had ever been. 'He's a fucking animal. No class! Doesn't know how to behave!' Sentiments that by this time everyone else was agreeing with....... so why was it that not half-an-hour later this guy wouldn't fuck off when he was asked to!
One mate ends the party...another wants it to carry on, even after it's all over...and me, all I want to do is drink myself unconscious to avoid the fucking shameful display of my so-called fucking friends and the scornful eyes of my soon-to-be friends no longer who will probably never hold another birthday party in their lives again!
Four hours we tried to kick the fucker out. Three times he refused lifts saying he would walk home but when walking was, in the end, called for all he could do was fall over the dirty paella dish and fall head first into the ashes. If only they'd still been hot we could've cremated the cunt there and then and no-one would ever have known!
Here's the paella being cooked. The bricks and the stones proved to be major obstacles for the horribly pissed amongst us......which might be quite normal under most circumstances.....but to mistake them for a fucking bed is perhaps going one beer too far!
And here's the back of my sexy head!
Eventually the cunt left.... leaving me to pick up the pieces, literally, and to contemplate the fact that if I'd been bored shitless before, now, following the stupidity of my dumb-ass ex-mates it was probably going to be a whole lot fucking worse and all because I had a fucking birthday party! Shit!! I just hope that I don't have to have another one. Ever!
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