Hey friends, it’s your girl Emily here. Just got back from a night on the town with some of girlfriends. It’s 2.06 am and I’m in bed and I’m just a little bit drunk. Like, I’m sober enough to have removed my make-up and to know that this thing here is my laptop not a sandwich but I’m drunk enough to have eaten some olives followed by some ice-cream, and that’s a sickening combination when you stop and think about it. So, my feet hurt like crazy. Girl are stupid I don’t know whose idea it was for us to wear heels. I mean, first of all they fucking hurt. And the good ones are expensive. And they make you taller than most guys which isn’t exactly ideal, plus it’s impossible to walk in them when you’ve had a drink or seven and it’s completely embarrassing, especially when you fall in front of a big group of people. That didn’t happen to me personally tonight but there was this girl who stacked it hardcore on the dance floor and inside I was laughing I’m a horrible person I know but I went to help her up and so did like ten other people and I had a little moment where I realised that there’s a lot of good out there in the world. My ears are ringing they hurt maybe more than my feet and that’s saying something. The DJ was shit. All we wanted was to dance to some good music but he kept playing this shit stuff. It wasn’t just his song choices that were bad, he didn’t know how to fade in and out. He slowed the songs right down for the last entire minute of each and every song and when music is slow a minute feels like a really long time. And you’re just standing there kind of swaying awkwardly because the music’s not fast enough to move properly and then comes another shit-house song and it’s definitely time to leave. So you pull a full on ghosty (which is when you leave without saying good-bye to anyone, like a ghost might do). But first you go to the bathroom and there’s a girl laying on the floor which is never good thing and she’s crying because apparently she has cramps and you’re just there thinking suck it up girlfriend we’ve all been there and you should probably get off the floor because you might get Ebola. Then when you finally make it into a cubical you sit down and the world starts spinning in a circle and you think that maybe you’re not as sober as you felt when the shit DJ was doing his shit (shit being the key word). You stand up to flush and notice that someone has written on the underside of the toilet seat in hot pink lipstick “GIRLS SHIT TOO” and it’s hilarious. You go to take a photo but your phone has died and that sucks. But at least you have an excuse for leaving without saying goodbye to anybody. Now I’m here in bed and I feel a little bit sick because olives and ice-cream most certainly do not go together, especially after a substantial amount of sangria. My ears are ringing and my feet are throbbing and tomorrow I am probably going to have some regrets or some questions at the very least. Especially because I’ll be working an eight hour shift and that will most certainly suck. How I’ve managed to put this together is beyond. I should probably wait to edit and post this sober but that would just be boring and lame and I’ve always thought that we should live on the edge, take risks etc. If I discover tomorrow morning that I’ve used the wrong their or there or they’re or the wrong your or you’re I am going to die.
I think this might be the shittest thing I’ve ever written.