Entry for December 26, 2008

Gawd I feel rank. I haven't had a hangover like this in... well... ever.

I'll admit I'm a social drinker at best (and as most can guess not a social butterfly to boot), but I did attend an occasional teenage party and imbibe abit too much Passion Pop so I have suffered them before. I've had a loooong shower, my morning cup of coffee, and I still feel ugh.

Of course, if I/"she" did drink all twelve bottles of Vodka I found myself sleeping on this morning then I'm not surprised. More amazed that I'm still alive and conscious enough now to even type this. Combined with my poor recall when sober, it's making it hard to know what I.. "she" did last night.

I definitely recall changing last night, so much sudden than before. I don't know if it was the Vodka Cruiser I had, or the fact I'd being stewing mentally for hours before hand, but it took less than a minute. Clothes didn't even have time to feel tight, just burst.

I know she drank the rest four-pack I had in the fridge, the remains of the bottles confirm that, and that she was still thirsty.

I'm sure she was leaping through the air and that she was angry that no where was open on Christmas day to buy any more booze, yet I could see a bottle shop lit up like...uh... Christmas.

Next thing out the front of a bottle shop with an alarm blaring and a group of men hustling boxes of booze into a car and ute, and this causes her to smirk and stride forward.

I distinctly recall that one of the robbers just stared at me... her... and she asked if he was oogling her tits. Her response to his stamered claim he was looking at my shirt was to tear the tattered garment off and ask him if he was staring at her tits now.

I think I saw her fist clenched and covered in blood, a hole through the wall of the door and wall beside it, right before she grabbed and tore the rear side door and almost half the back of their car in my... her hands like it was paper and then throw mass of metal towards another robber, and that she was laughing as bullets bounced off her green skin.

I know she picked up a case of vodka and leapt away, laughing as the police arrived, but the next thing I remember, the last thing I can even fuzzily recall, is sitting in my lounge room bitting the entire top off a Vodka bottle, glass, cap and all, before guzzling its contents and giggling.

I can guess some of other things she did after based on the state of my poor house. The TV was on when I woke up, but it was on ABC2 when they don't show any programs, just the ABC guide with DiG in the background. All the Chrissy left-overs are gone, and almost everything except the frozen stuff in the freezer has been stripped clean, and even a couple of boxes in the freezer look like they've been nibbled on.

My CD and DVD collection look like somebody started carefully pulling out cases, and then just swatted the rest on the ground. But strangely the books and photos from high-school and uni, the ones I just kept out of habit and had boxed up in the back of my wardrobe for years were all over the floor in my bedroom, open to various girls and friends I even admired or had crushes on, or outright hated. I also found my old hockey stick from high-school, but it's snapped in half and the handle is soggy and smells like it's been somewhere I'd rather not dwell.

I think... I'll go back to bed as all this recalling and thinking is doing my head in.