Inebriated Epiphanies

Last Thursday, JD left for Paris to meet up with his Nan and his Aunt. It has been JD’s Aunt’s life-long dream to visit Paris and she is finally seeing it through. It’s heart-warming and very cute of JD to meet up with them. I would have come along, but I thought it would be nice for JD to have some quality time with his family. Plus, my finances are a bit dire, thanks to being critically underpaid in my pathetic excuse for a job. Plus we are going to Paris again next weekend anyway.

When I am home alone, I naturally want to go out and do as many activities as possible to prove that I am totally capable of having lots of fun without JD. It’s a completely healthy and normal thought process. And so, with the BF away I was determined to play! (With my friends – just to make that clear).

Did I succeed?

Probably not.

Did I have fun anyway?

Apparently so.

I have never blogged about Sophie and Gunther as they are my best (only) friends in London and they would probably disown me if I started blogging about our misadventures. However, they were the inspiration for my short-lived blog series on how to speak English (which begins here and ends here).

We have (had) a lot of fun together.

Unfortunately, last  Friday marked the beginning of the end of my little work trio. It was Gunther’s last day and we had a bit of a going away feast for him. Then we went out and got drunk. Sophie’s friend Tom joined us during the night. Then Sophie and Tom came back to my place to chill. It was a big night.

I woke up on Saturday morning, rugged up in bed, with my laptop lying on top of me. Windows Media Player was open and paused, 14 minutes and 13 seconds into an episode of Community. I went back to sleep for approximately 3 hours.

Late Saturday morning, Sophie and I had a text exchange, recapping on the night before. Sophie informed me that, in my inebriated state, I had become quite insightful on some pertinent aspects of her life.

That afternoon, I went for a stroll to buy some coffee and enjoy the rare sunshine that had decided to grace London. Whilst walking, I had an idea for a piece I am working on and (in true writer-cum-wanker-wannabe style), I decided to dictate my thoughts with my iPhone. It was at this moment that I discovered a number of voice recordings that I had apparently recorded the night before.

I already knew that I had interesting things to say about Sophie. Did I have similar insights into my own life?

Here are the transcripts of my inebriated epiphanies.

On “Empire of the Sun and fucking Gerling”

Recording time: 1  min 22 secs.

I am recording this message just to saaaaay that: Gerling, you know, the Australian electronica band from the early 2000’s, GERLING, is fucking amazing.

And, interestingly, as I was running over, well I wasn’t really running, but I was coming over to the iPhone, iPod, sorry iPhone, which was in the dock playing the music, I was going over to it to pick it up to make this message, and, because I was so slow the next song came on and it was Empire of the Sun. And, I had to st.. even though I wanted to make the message, I had to stop and listen to the whoooole song, becauuuuuuuse, guess what?

Empire of the Sun is fucking amazing! 

Sooooo, to reiterate, Empire of the Sun, which you probably already knew, but I’m saying it again because I just experienced it right now, Empire of the Sun is fucking amazing ANNNNNNNND, GERLING (probably haven’t listened to it since like the early 2000’s, thought it was amazing then, but didn’t really listen to it since then and I just listened to it again and I can confirm that: Listen to it again. Like, right now, because)

GERLING,  fucking amazing.

Do it. Empire of the Sun and fucking Gerling. Do it.

Excerpts of, on “Being a Slob”

Total recording time: 3 mins, 17 secs.

Soooo, Sophie and Tom just left and I thought, “oh I might stay up a bit”, and then I thought you know what? I’m going to take off my cloooothes, lie in bed, and watch some Community, because I am in a really good frame of mind to watch Community.”

And like, so, I had to get ready for bed and the problem was, there was a LOT of shit on the bed.

20 seconds later.

So, if JD was here, JD would be taking in charge of the [crisps] and … so he would probably look to do it on the bed and I would be like, like getting all ffffff fucking OCD like [in a shrill, womanly voice] “JD get off the bed, you can’t do it there, you have to do it over the window sill!” And so, like, I would be humiliating him in front of whoever our guests were because, you know, he was being fucking disgusting doing it on the bed. Like, know better, do it on the window sill.

BUT! As soon as JD is away, guess what? I am fucking [putting the crisps] on the bed, and, I made a fucking mess, everywhere, and I had to like really fucking clean it up properly before I could get into bed. Like it was filthy on the bed. Don’t worry, it’s clean. It’s really clean. But, it wasn’t clean before, like you don’t even want to know. But don’t worry, it’s it’s fine.

So, to reiterate, I’ve always told JD like, don’t be a fucking filthy pig. But, as sooooon as he leaves and like it’s just me, I’m a fucking naughty person. And now I know why I am so hard on JD!

Because, naturally, I am actually fucking woooorse and more of a slob. So, when there is someone here who is a bit of a slob, I latch onto that and go like, I can see myself in them and I am like, [in weird, exaggerated voice] “Ugghhhh, I don’t want to be that person!” So I fucking go mental at them to make me feeeeel better, because deep down, I know that I am naturally a slob and I need somebody like JD so that I can be so fucking, like [in weird, exaggerated voice] “Ugh, like, ugh, that’s what slobs are like and I, I, I know I’m like that, so I wanna get hard on him so so that I, you know, I know that I’m a better person than that.”

Oh god, that makes no sense. Oh my god, I must sound really out of it…

There was another 45 seconds after this, of me basically rehashing the same point. It should be noted that this is all bull shit.  I am, naturally, a very clean person. And JD is definitely a little “slobbier” than I am, but not a “fucking filthy pig”. (Clearly, I am quite liberal with the f-word after a few drinks). And yes, I am painfully aware that my inebriated self characterised me as having a womanly alter-ego.

OnThe Zoo”

Recording time: 59 secs.

[In whispered tone]

Oh my god. So it’s Friday night, oh I guess Saturday morning now and Rivington Street is going fucking crazy [bottle smashes in background] oh shit… and a guy, just finished, a straight, bottle, of, vodka and chucked it in the bin. But the only reason why I know that happened is because I heard a sssccshhhhhhh sound so I look out and there was somebody fucking spray painting on the wall in our alley way. And then, one of his mates, was scolling a fucking bottle of vodka. I caught him because I came out to see the spray painting. Like, that’s how fucking crazy out alley way is.

And… even though it’s this crazy…. I wouldn’t fucking change it, I fucking love it, I fucking love living in this crazy shit. But fucking hell, who the fuck are these people. What a zoo.

Upon later inspection, there did not appear to be any new spray paint in our alleyway.

On “The Halloween Episode of Community”

For those of you who have never heard of Community, it is a reasonably light-hearted, oddball, American situation comedy about a zany and diverse study group in a Community College.

Recording time: 18 secs.

[In very elongated sentences]

I am currently watching the Halloween episode of Community, and it has taken a really sudden fucking turn. I am actually getting heart palpitations. This is ffff, what the fuck? This is amazing.

7 thoughts on “Inebriated Epiphanies

  1. Andy, having passed skulls through parts of my body that now exhibit difficulties controlling the urine stop valve, I am horribly vulnerable to urinating all over myself when caught in the kind of UNCONTROLLABLE FITS OF HYSTERICAL CACKLING that I just experienced reading this.

    If cack is wee, I do believe I just cacked myself and need to change my sheets.


    Ps. I reckon you are like fuck and yeah had a baby and called it Andrew. x

    • As usual, you words are poetry to my ears. Cacking poetry. Wait, I’m not using that correctly…

      I can hear your booming laugh from across the oceans. Miss you and our adventures, Jones!

      You. The Best.


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