This Saturday has been an eventful one.

First, me and the guys at the Academy Of Zombie Survival had an interview with one of my favourite authors, Peter Clines. He wrote Ex-Hero’s and the sequel Ex-Patriots. It’s about super hero’s and zombies… It’s freakin awesome!

I mean, the interview was a bit boring but his writing is amazing.
Plus he liked an observation I made so much that he said he’s gonna swipe it!

Then there was a beer festival which I didn’t need to pay to get into… Cos I’m super cool, obviously.

Then there was the overdue excursion with my scornful ex…
Randomly out of the blue she came storming through the club and started shouting at me.
Now I couldn’t hear a fucking word she was saying, so we went to the smoking area, thinking I could reason with her like an adult… Nah.

She continued to shout at me despite the fact that it really wasn’t necessary.
Apparently someone who barely knows me got smashed and had a go at her for something to do with me… Don’t ask me cos I have no fucking idea.

In the middle of her tyrade she accidently knocks the can out of my hand (cos this particular bar is scummy as hell and sells can’s instead of pints) and to my amazement, it lands perfectly upright.

I know right, how badass is that!?

So I say “Omg did you see that? That’s awesome!”
At which point she boots it accross the smoking area, covering some poor bastards in the process.
I kept my cool and tried to carry on the ‘conversation’ (and I use that word as loosley as possible.)

Eventually however she obviously gets so angry at looking at me that she decides to knee me sqaure in the gonads.

The sad thing is I’m used to this behaviour now. Every time we cross paths I come off worse.
A little rundown of our previous skirmishes.
1. She starts slapping the shit out of me in the middle of a busy pub.
2. She put a cigarette out on my chest.
3. She put her hand down my pants and squeezed my balls like a vicegrip.
4. She threw a full pint over me then stole mine for her new boyfriend.
5. And the more recent, knee to the gonads situation.

Now, you may think that this makes me sound soft or a bit of a pussy, not the case.
I have in the past and will keep trying to bury the hatchet and make amends, so for that reason I don’t want to kick up a fuss.

But the other reason is that whenever I’m around she turns mental and actually scares me a bit.

hypnotiqradiance:

If I have the option to send it via fanmail, I will so I don’t have to deal with ask limit and can get to more of you at once. It’s not about the notes, it’s about making a genuine connection with you guys.

All I ask is that you don’t reblog this if you’re just going to reply with “lol idk” “uhh long story” “omg why would you ask that”. I’m only looking for people who are really going to open up to these personal questions.

So, let the fun begin.

Haha, can’t wait.

I would normally put this down to me drinking an extra-retarded amount of booze, but it seems to be happening more and more frequently, despite the fact that I’m actually drinking less.

Apparently this is a sign that I’m getting old, that my metabolism is slowing down or that my body is giving me stronger and stronger signs to stop drinking… That’s not going to happen.

I have firmly come to the conclusion that I only have friends because I am a hilarious drunk.

I know everyone likes to think of themselves as the life and soul of the party when they’ve been drinking, that they’re funnier, wittier and much more charming. In reality however, they have too many, they turn into an unsociable, dribbling mess and end up relieving themselves on their friends X-box…

I’ve witnessed this twice now, and before you ask, neither of them was me.

But when I’m shitfaced, people seem to hang on to my every word despite the fact that two thirds of what I’m saying is pure crap. Either this is some secret joke which everyone is in on and making fun of me behind my back or the combination of crap which comes out of my mouth is genuinely amusing.

I refuse to believe the former, mainly because it’s incredibly mean, but also because I like to think that my friends are the best people that ever lived and that would show extremely bad judge of character on my part.

For instance though, on Friday night me, Ben and Laura got invited to a skype night with some of our american counterparts.
Now would be a good time to mention the podcast that the three of us are in…
It’s about Zombies.
It’s called AcademyOfZombieSurvival.
We don’t have a website yet but theres a group on facebook.

Anyway, a couple of the american zombie related podcasts invited us along to get drunk, watch dead snow and talk shit.
We didn’t watch dead snow.
Instead I got annihilated, and to prove my point, whenever I opened my mouth the rest of the group seemed to hang on to my every word and laugh at every joke I made.

Maybe it was my British accent, Americans notoriously love a British accent. In fact, one guy and his wife actually left the conversation for about an hour to go have sex.
I know this because, instead of muting the mic before doing the deed, he accidently muted the speakers…

I’m claiming that one as our collective accents got them in the mood. 

Back to the original point. I didn’t really have much to drink that night, or the following night, but it’s now monday and although I feel a bit more human, there are still definitely remnants of a hangover lurking.

But if I were to stop drinking, I’m pretty sure my friends would realising how boring I really am.
You can see the predicament I’m in… 

I know right, how blasphemous of me!

It’s not even as if I’ve been doing anything particularly interesting, I just completely forgot about my hangover ritual. Also I took a bit of a sabbatical from my studies of alcohol after my last post, mainly because that was a pretty fuckin’ low point for me. 

So, for your reading pleasure, I’m going to try and recap some of my recent adventures in boozetown. It won’t be up to my usual glowing standard of literacy but I think I’m still a bit pissed so I’m sure you can forgive me.

Ready?

OK.

It was reading festival a little over a month ago, and I’d been looking forward to this all year. 
So what do I do? 
Get drunk, injure myself and spend half the time on crutches.

I’ll get to that later though. 
The first night we were there, me and a friend Adam went for a wander and ended up in our friend Dobbie’s camp-site. Dobbie has this flatpeak hat that he absolutely loves, even though he looks like an absolute dickhead it it.

Whilst in the camp-site we made friends with two other girls, one in a tiger onesie and one in a penguin onesie.
For the purposes of this story they will hereby be referred to as ‘fit tiger’ and ‘fit penguin’.
We ended up getting kicked out of the camp by a really drunk girl who, after no one laughed at her joke, decided that she hated fit tiger. 

Next thing I remember is coming back at about 6 am, when everyone was asleep, sneak into Dobbie’s tent and steal his hat. We then spent a couple hours wandering around getting people to put the hat on and give us the finger whilst we  take a picture and upload it to a facebook group called ‘Where’s Dobbie’s Hat?’.

The funny part is that by the time he realised and came back looking for his hat we had actually lost it. And when I say ‘we’, I of course mean ‘I’.
I might have lost it somewhere between passing out in the middle of our camp-site, and wandering into someone else’s tent to pass out… Who knows.

The week continued in this fashion until Friday night. Me and Adam were going for another wander around the camp-sites at about 4 am with fit tiger and fit penguin. 
In the midst of our rum filled frollicking about, some genius brings up the idea of drunk Olympics (probably me).

We get to the 100m sprint and by this time we had another guy join in the fun, a big black guy called Victor.
Now, Victor is fast. Fast enough that he’s winning the race by quite a distance. 
About halfway through I realise that, to anybody else it just looks like a black guy getting chased down the path by a bunch of white people.

This made me laugh, which in turn made me fall over and smash my knee onto the metal walkway.
I end up spending the rest of the weekend hobbling about and having to be careful.
Lame.

Fast forward a couple weeks and it’s my birthday, for which I decided to rent out a funhouse.
Best. Idea. Ever.
Apart from the fact that I was hideously drunk and sweaty. 
And apart from one of my friends relentlessly telling one of the poor girls who worked there that he wanted to ‘do her in the bum’. 
I didn’t even manage to injure myself!

Fast forward again to last night, it’s a friends birthday so I decide to get annihilated. I haven’t been drinking much lately so this doesn’t take a lot.
After spilling booze over everyone I decide it’s time to leave, so I catch a ride from Adam’s girlfriend Sophie. 
On the way home Sophie makes the stupidest mistake ever. She tells us about a game where, if you pull up to a traffic light when it’s red, you have to get out the car and run around it as many times as you can before the light changes.

We made it 3 times before we hear the siren.

A normal person would shut the fuck up at this point, but whilst Sophie is getting a scalding from the male officer about how ‘she is responsible for everyone in her car’ I start laughing and try to get recognition from the police about how funny it was. 

I’m pretty sure the female officer had to get back into her car to regain her composure.

The reason my tumblr has been fairly quiet the last few weeks was that I had a bit of a life altering epiphany, for lack of a better word.
As such my lifestyle has taken a dramatic 180 toward the responsible and respectful ways of an adult.
A lot of people would say that it’s about fucking time, and to you I say ‘go fuck yourself.’ (for those who enjoy my antics etc. Have no fear, it will probably only last a couple weeks.)

There are a number of reasons for my current mindset: ‘I’m trying to get fit’, ‘I drink too much’, ‘I hate having no money’ ‘I’m trying to save money for reading festival’ and ‘I hate my fucking job’ are all fore-running reasons for this.

however, there was one major, defining reason for this, and that was that I recently hit rock bottom…

murmermurmermurmermerrr…

What was that Richard? The nice readers didn’t hear you.

I slept with a homeless person…

Is that all?

No..

What else?

She was 32… A… And the mother of a 7 year old…

…

…

In no way whatsoever am I proud about this.

And to be fair, she wasn’t technically homeless…

She lived in a women’s refuge. I know this as I got kicked out of said women’s refuge early the next day before the day staff came on shift.

The worst part is that she wasn’t even good looking. I mean, she had a nice body and stuff, but I suppose that’s not difficult when you can’t afford to eat…

Wow… Did I just?… Yeah I hate myself even more right now.

Thinking back to that night the only explanation I can give is that, I was drunk and she paid me some attention.

Very, very poor excuse I know.

Now i’m not the type of guy who thinks people are beneath me. The reason that this was such a low moment is because I’ve been getting all sorts of shit because of this. 
Shit from my friends, who found it hilarious. 
Shit from her, because I haven’t been in touch, despite my politely saying before hand that I want nothing more from her.
Shit from her ex, because some people are just assholes.
Even shit from my mother accusing me of taking advantage of vulnerable women (for the record it was more the other way around).

And before you ask, no I didn’t tell my mum about this. Truth is, I can never seem to keep anything about myself private. Even before I upload my exploits to tumblr. my dirty laundry seems to get aired all over town before I’m even aware that anyone else knows.

It doesn’t particularly bother me, if you haven’t already noticed, I’m quite transparent and a large portion of my humour is modelled around self-deprecation.

It’s just a bit odd when your mother gives you a dirty look, asks you where you’ve been and doesn’t mean geographically.

My mum gave me her Kindle the other day. She doesn’t use it anymore considering she bought herself an iPad 3500, and you can simply buy a Kindle app on that.

The good thing about the Kindle is that you can share books with it. You can have someone else log into the Kindle using their details and select any book from their archive and download it to your device, for keepsie’s!

Scrolling through my mums archive I found One Day by David Nicholls, which I may actually read at some point, a bunch of Sally Morgan books on her life as a fraud Psychic, and the complete 50 Shades series by E. L. James…

I’ll admit I had a peek…

But honestly it wasn’t much more than that. I got about 20% through the book and fuck all had happened. It’s the biggest pile of drivel I have ever read, and I once took a stab at reading twilight.

O.K. I was being unfair, a few things happen.

A guy on a bike nearly knocked her over, Edward Cullen Christian Grey saves her and then proceeds to fuck with her mind a little.Her friend tries to rape her and she’s saved by Christian Grey who then proceeds to fuck with her mind a little.She passes out drunk and he takes her to a hotel, where she wakes up half naked and he proceeds to fuck with her mind a little.

Then they get in a helicopter for some reason and there’s a lot of talk about a contract. At this point I gave up. 

I didn’t even make it to any of the sexXxy parts because, due to a little hearsay and judging by the writings of Stephanie Meyer E. L. James, I made an informed guess that, I really didn’t want to read this crap.

But I have this thing, call it a principle, that I can’t dismiss something unless I give it chance. So I gave it another chance… It didn’t get much better.

For one thing, Christian Grey never spoke to her. He murmured, muttered, whispered and even grumbled at her the entire time.
Christ, it must have been like being seduced by a pensioner!

I can just imagine listening in on her having a phone conversation with her mum.

“I met this really cute guy… Yeah, he’s also a billionaire and tells me what to do all the time… Mmmhmm… Yeah…. Yup… No not yet, but I think he wants to bite it… He said so… What was that you say?… Oh, he’s ninety… Ninety… Nine zero… Yeah.”

The protagonist, Anastasia Steele, is a complete and utter Mary Sue. A total proxy for E. L. James… This woman:
All so she can imagine herself being pursued and getting jack hammered by a modern Mr Darcy with a fetish.

If Anastasia Steele had any personality, she’d be a fucking mooch. That guy at the pub who’s always “hey can you get me a drink please buddy?” or “hey can I steal a cigarette please buddy?”

She’s living with her rich friend Kate for practically nothing, because Kate’s parents bought the apartment, who also lets her drive her overpriced sports car all the time.
Then Anastasia Steele falls for Christian Grey, the first man she’s ever found attractive in her life. It has totally nothing to do with the fact that he has more money than god… Nothing to do with it…

Ok, so he has a big knob. But really, if Ana was a virgin who had never even masturbated, how would she know what a big willy looked like. Dude could be tiny for all she knows.

But seriously, apart from the money I can’t see what else it could be. The guy’s a dick! He’s controlling, pretentious, abusive, he stalks her and, oh yeah, at one point, he pulls out her tampon and fucks her… 

He straight up, grabs the string, pull’s it out, then go’s to town.

Christian Grey is a sick fuck, and I can say this freely because… Remember that principal I have? 

… Yeah… It happened… Although for me, and I’m not too familiar with the physiology of this, but I think for her also, it was a surprise. 
So once again, from someone who’s experienced that horrifying moment when they think they just murdered their partner with their penis, I can say this. Christian Grey is a sick fuck.

The worst part about it is that he tries to justify it by saying he hates using condoms. Again, I’m not overly familiar with menstruation, but I’m pretty sure you can still get knocked up when you’re raggin’.

Now, E. L. James may love the idea of being fucked on the blob.
She might rely on her partner to be told what to do, where to go, what to eat and how to dress. She may even enjoy getting slapped around and dominated.
However in the real world, when these things happen, it can destroy lives.

That’s the sinister side of this piece of trash. That women are going to think it’s O.K. if their abusive douchebag husbands treat them like shit, because “he probably has issues and stuff, I can save him!”

When women begin to idolize and swoon over pricks like that, it’s no wonder some get a hard time from assholes treating them like objects or not taking them seriously. 

I genuinely believe that writers like Stephenie Meyer and E. L. James are a hindrance to feminism and equality.

I actually feel stupider for reading this bullshit. 

Ok, so I’m appropriately hungover and in a mildly self pitying state of mind.

Last night I went out with some friends after I finished work and we bumped into one of our friends ex-girlfriends and ended up partying until the early hours.

This probably not a good idea, considering she’s a teacher and has her last day of work today before the summer holidays. Although I suppose she can get away with putting a dvd on, wearing some sunglasses and catching some z’s.

Thing is, my friend and her only split last friday, and she was quite obviously devastated. We were all at her house playing stupid games and drinking… Well I was driving and chain smoking, but it was still a laugh.

That is, until my friend decides that this would be the perfect time to break off a seemingly happy relationship.

Whilst we’re all there.

In her house.

A group of people who are predominantly his friends.

… What a good idea that was.
Now I can’t really talk, considering I did something similar, except mine was in public. Which is probably worse.

Whilst I was driving her home, she started crying and telling me how bad it felt and how she would have done or been anything for him. I did my best to comfort her, but this just suddenly bought all the old feelings of guilt from my break up, flooding back.

To be honest I don’t think the guilt ever really left.

Y’see, although ending our relationship was what I wanted, I had my reasons and in hindsight both of us are better off. I just wish I didn’t do it in such a dickish way. Drunk, in public and in a shitty mood. 

Argh, that was such a shit idea!

We made an attempt at staying civil but, like my friends ex, I guess she was too devastated and it usually ended badly for me. Who can blame her? I didn’t so much mind that though, I felt like I deserved it.

Truth is, although I don’t want to be with her, it really sucks not knowing her any more. I had a best friend for four years and in the blink of an eye its all gone. I felt empty and alone, I can’t even begin to imagine what she was going through.

I saw her recently and wanted to talk to her, I wanted to apologise for being a cunt and for all of the shit things I did/am. I wanted to extend the olive branch, to find a way of making it up to her so we could be friends. 
But like the coward, I couldn’t do it. 
It probably didn’t help that my friends kept talking really loudly whilst she was in earshot about how good I look now and how big my penis is.

That wasn’t me trying to slip my dick size into this for no reason, they were actually saying it, even though I don’t think any of them has actually seen it.

I saw her again later on that night. I was shitfaced and on the verge of tears, after just getting a load of grief from a bouncer about my toolbox brother, who’s in prison for mugging an old couple. More on that later.

All I could manage was a weak ‘hi’. She looked at me with disgust and moved swiftly on… I probably deserved that.

I guess I feel I need to get this all out now, tell my story, admit to how much of a dick I was, just in case I never summon up the courage to tell her to her face.

I doubt she’ll ever read this and I doubt it will make much difference but, I’m sorry for how things turned out, you deserved better.

Me and two friends actually tried this last night in two separate bars.

It ended with us being kicked out of one for ‘harassing’ a girl and a guy trying to start a fight because we (I) knocked his drink out of his hand whilst bumping into him.

It probably didn’t help that I said “This isn’t real” after knocking it out of his hand, and then tried to pretend it never happened… Just a thought.

I’m taking notes.

I’m not exactly sure what it is, maybe it’s because I don’t have any money or maybe it’s because I haven’t gotten laid in a while. Or maybe, and this is the darkest of the maybe’s, it’s because I haven’t been shitfaced in over a week.

That’s not to say I haven’t had ANY alcohol, oh no. I have friends who, literally will not let me sit there with a diet coke or a glass of tap water, who will buy me a pint and practically force feed it to me. Such as they did on Friday night.

They pulled out all the stops, every psychological trick, every mind fuck technique, every humiliation tactic ever made. I obliged in one drink out of courtesy, but managed to convince them that I can’t have another and made up some bullshit about having to drive and having to work early.

I have no idea why it was so important for them to get me to drink. Maybe it’s fun for them, when someone sets them-self a personal challenge, to attempt to topple them from their self appointed pedestal and bring them crashing down to ground among the rest of the mere mortals. Or maybe I’m just unbearably boring when I’m sober, who knows?

Saturday was just a mess, I was gonna stay sober, then I wasn’t, then I did. I ended up being swayed into having a drink by free champagne. I say champagne, I mean sparkling toilet water… Sorry, FREE sparkling toilet water. Then I lost my driving license and the decision was kinda made for me. A whole bunch of other shit happened that night which I won’t go into, but this kicked off the bad mood which I am currently wallowing in.

It got so bad that, when a friends dad wrote ‘wanker’ on one of my Facebook status’, I wrote a smarmy reply and was actually itching for a response so I could tear him a new one. I’m still unsure as to weather this was said in jest, but at the time it didn’t matter, I wanted a fight godamnit.

Now, my weekend would usually be spent drinking myself into an inebriated stupor, waking on someone’s sofa, spending half a day still drunk at work and the other half nursing an almighty hangover. Then repeating the process until it’s Monday… Sometimes Tuesday. 

However this weekend I woke feeling clean, refreshed and full of energy. For some reason, this has pissed me off. It’s also scared me a little.

It’s as if I have been teetering on the cliff face of alcohol dependence for a long time, just waiting for that excuse, that mild gust of wind to send me plummeting into an existence I could never completely return from.

Now I know people recover from alcoholism and go on to lead full enriched lives. These people always seem to have supportive friends who meet up regularly, friends that they can share their dark secrets, their hopes, their dreams and their fears with… I wonder if there’s a place I could find associates like these…

But for the most part, ex-alcoholics never touch alcohol again and end up becoming distant from their oldest, closest friends. Friends who can who have a wine with their meal without the fear that the second alcohol touches their lips, they are once again enslaved.

The thought of becoming like that scares me beyond belief, which is probably why I’ve been reeling in my drinking lately, putting me in this gargantuan strop… That and the fact that I’m broke.