"Where's the spare?" "Spare? What freakin' spare?"

I think that the weekend may have been too exciting. The reason I say that is that I no longer have the umph to actually come to work and work. Does that make sense?

Or maybe it's cos there isn't any “real” work todo, it's all busy work. Blah!

So this weekend.. Um, should I start with the non-drinkers drinking binge, the ass forgets his keys, or the lost Sunday?

I suppose I better start at the beginning, eh?

So Surly comes over right after work, then decides to watch a little TV before we go out, fair enough, the next thing I know I'm waking up.. “What the hell happen?”. “oh”, he says, “I was going to wake you up earlier but you started snoring so I thought you must need it”. Tuns out I'd passed out for and hour or so. I should have realised then that this wasn't going to be good. So out we go. Surly is on a mission. I mean I just drink fast enough so that by the end of the night I'm drunk. So it usually takes me about four or five hours to get toasty. If I'm left to my own devices. Yes. Well. Let's just say that I wasn't left to my own devices. All of a sudden the armature starts up after his second Bacardi and Red Bull, with “Oh my god! Is your pussy hurting?!” I sigh with resignation. It was going to be a long night. I didn't quite realise at that moment quite how long. It was when the Irish Car Bomb was ordered and delivered by an evilly grinning bar-girly, that it hit me that I was probably going down. The rest is very vague.

I remember the 200 yard sprint to the house, cos I thought my intestines where going to explosively decompress. Yeah. I'm breaking out into a sweat just thinking of that. Enough said.

I think there was Sci-fi after that for a couple of hours. I think I saved Galactica so I can catch the subtleties later this week.

Saturday was simply trying to recover, a couple of hours napping. Oh. Then I nip out to get something to eat. As the front door clicks closed, I realise that I don't have my keys. Freaking, bloody, bloody!

An hour and a half later in the sweltering sun, I've managed after calling everyone I can think of for inspiration. I have all the putty out of my windows. As I'm prying the glass out it starts to crack. Bollocks. I whack it a couple of times and pull out the extra large pieces of glass. Nice and clean and that.

I'm half way through the window when the neighbor comes round. There I am trying to talk to him while my torso is in the air conditioned loveliness of the house and my legs are hanging outside. Very embarrassing. Good job there moving. So now I need a glazier. Bugger!

Oh then we tried to do it again. Mistake. I don't know about him, but my heart wasn't in it. I was feeling very average.

Sunday was a massive game day ;)