Well, that’s what I started this ridiculous blog for…
All my mates are broke or undergoing physio or saving for weddings or ill or settling down and buying mortgages and BMWs (yet still broke). It’s the Curse of the Thirties- we aren’t kids any more. We have responsibilities. I don’t get to see my various mates that I’ve got scattered around Greater Manchester because- no matter how affluent people are- everyone’s broke.
I’ve spent most of my life being broke as shit, watching everyone else succeed around me, but now that I’ve got a little left over after bills everyone ELSE is broke as shit. For fuck’s sake.
I’m still seeing Baa Bar girl. Sex with her is getting steadily better, but I still can’t come- largely because I’m a porn addict and have been since way before I ever lost my virginity. She doesn’t exactly know this though. She’s only 18- too young to understand. I don’t want to scare her off.
I dropped her off this morning (after misreading the satnav and going on a huge detour). I started to feel shit. My stomach hurt, My head hurt. I went for tea at Mum and Dad’s. I hardly ate. Dad dropped me off and I went straight to bed.
A group of my Manchester mates seem to have gone quiet on me. I have no idea why. Last time I saw them was when we watched England v Italy on the 14th, when MW ran his fat-ass mouth about an incident on holiday in 20-fucking-10. I’ve blocked him on Facebook. I’ve not really spoken to the rest of the group, but the few comments on Facebook have been a bit negative. Apparently I’m not invited to a wedding, although how serious that comment was is dubious.
I can hardly be arsed asking them what’s going on or if they want to come out, because the all know each other a lot better than they know me. Also, when I suggest something, it doesn’t happen.
AN is STILL taking the piss. He still owes me money AND is planning to go to Ibiza. He’s invited me. His ex, who I’m friends with, says he owes her THOUSANDS, and I believe her. If I go on ho with him I’ll be taking the piss out of her. He says she’s bullshitting me. But why should I believe him, who’s always drunk when I see him, over JR who’s normally sober and has all her shit in order?
I’ve told him there’s too many stag dos this year for me to go. As it happens, there’s one this year and I’ve given £150 as a deposit for Ibiza. But with a few people in that group being a dick with me, I don’t know if I’m still invited. Another group member- who isn’t going- has said it probably won’t go ahead as no-one’s got enough money. Fuck’s sake. I don’t wanna end up going to Benidorm or some cheesy shithole like that. I also need to make sure MW isn’t going. (A quick look on the Facebook group suggests he’s not, but then, I DID block him, so would he show up?)
I’m falling asleep and waking up at random times of day and night, which is destroying my job and ruining my general psyche. I’m missing fitness classes and turning up late for work. They know I’m on zopiclone and have received training for sleeping, but it’s still embarrassing.
So I’m now sat here watching Midnight Run, not really following the plot but enjoying DeNiro regardless. Plan for tomorrow- sort Mum’s birthday present out. Gotta get my ass to Holmfirth, of all places, to buy something special, except I’m not driving because I felt like such utter shit earlier tonight that I left my car at my parents.
FUCK FUCK FUCK. So yeah, shit weekend, unless you count the hot sex.