Saturday, October 19, 2002

* * * * * Am I an evill person? * * * * *
Yesterday was one of my bad days where I awoke with such a deep sense of pessimism that it was all I could do to get out of bed. I had stayed in the night before and was exceptionally well-rested, but the only effect of this had been to give me the opportunity to catch up with my nightmares. I don't remember the details of this one, but I woke up with blood on my face, having bitten down on my lip in my sleep. Bad start. I made it worse by leaping out of bed on spotting the blood, only to knock grapefruit juice all over the bed. It even had bits in. The bits are still in bed with me. They give me comfort.

I somehow went to work, where I struggled with a need to come across sane all morning. It was just too much for me though, and I left feeling totally unable to do another thing. Thankfully, Breeze had received a bit of a windfall that morning, and she decided to buy me lunch, after which we had a hair cut. [The best hair cut of my life, if anyone cares - If you're looking for a hairdresser, email me on, and I'll arrange for the half price discount. I say now that the best thing about the hairdresser was the neverending flow of complimentary wine. Lots of complimentary wine. Lots.] Anyhow, by the time we left the hairdressers, we'd laid plans in place for a night out on the tiles with two random boys, Guy and Josh. Random because one of them could theoretically be referred to as my employer.

[There is a certain amount of background required here. Two days earlier, Breeze and I had gone out with Guy to Quaglino's [where I was very unladylike in throwing up into the bin outside]. Since he had been paying, we had been encouraging (as you do) and possibly gotten a little too friendly with each other. Well, Breeze and I had, anyway. The poor boy didn't know what hit him.]

Now, on this night, it did seem a little like he was expecting a repeat performance [although he had forgotten his camera]. The first problem was that he was our friend by this stage, so we weren't prepared to sponge off him. It wouldn't have been right [see, I do have morals]. The other problem was that, well, I had no money. My credit card had already been turned down at the hairdressers [the shame! Although I still wonder what they would've done if I hadn't been able to pay - wash hair all night?], and I was a little panicked. The plan, naturally, was to be as approachable as possible to those patrons of the establishments we honoured.

Rather unfortunately, Guy goes insane when we end up having drinks bought for us. Well, to be fair, only when we went to say the obligatory thank yous and to feign attraction within those well defined limits [in this social situation]. The point is though, we only did it because we didn't feel right putting him under the pressure of having to pay for us. Is that evill? Is it bad to go to a bar and have drinks bought for us? I've always thought that it was perfectly acceptable, and in fact encouraged, in these situations. Maybe *horror*, I was wrong?

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