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Jul. 1st, 2006 09:09 pmHo hum.
Yesterday was a really lovely day. Simon came by, and I experimented with a new way of making lasagne, and then we lazed around being food-comaesque. I even got a phone call with a job offer - kitchen domestic, 8-2 daily, I can live with that and OMG I CAN START COMMUNICATING AND MAKING PLANS WITH PEOPLE - before nipping to the pub.
Then it went, well, quite wrong.
See, the first part of the evening was really lovely. I saw Jess and day and Dobbin again, and Day wasn't a total tit, and it was nice just to be out with Simon and yes, I drank. I do the drinking thing quite a lot, you see, because I am a student and it is all good and hey, job! I can afford it!
The thing is, and I have to point this out right now, is that I did not drink more than I usually drink. I did not drink anything new and exciting or different.
Anyway. There was drinking, and good-natured chatting, and catching up is lovely when the sun is shining and all that, but then the pub shut, so off we went to one of the bars that's open a lot later.
They refused to serve us without passports. Driving licences were not allowed. I mean, for fuck's sake. So, off we went to the Arriba. I've described it before - a horrible, nasty little nightclub in the middle of Ormskirk, but it was the only place left as an option. In we went, all sober and that, I had another drink (to be precise, a single shot of Aftershock), nipped to the loo and then... nothing. I woke up having no idea how I got into bed, or why the hell Simon was in the spare room, or why I was bruised and had splinters in my finger.
Long story short is that I (well, Simon) reckon someone spiked my drink, because I remember turning away briefly from the bar before taking the drink. OH GOODY. And it's not just a 'oh, you were drunk' because I have been there and done that, but never like this.
Simon tells me that I asked to come home and had to be pretty much carried the entire way home, the bruises are from where I fell to my knees in a vain attempt to be sick, apparently. My mother had to tell me the rest, involving her pushing me in the direction of my room. I managed to get into my pajamas, egads. I woke up in a shock at about 10, when I heard my sister talking next door, and tried to work out why I was bruised.
I'm just glad that I was out with Simon, because he took me home and made sure I got sorted. I am possibly the most unpopular person in my house right now due to being quite spectacularly ill during the night.
I don't know; maybe I just can't hold my drink in my old age, but I honestly think that someone tampered with my drink. And it reminds me how much I don't want to be around in Ormskirk anymore, and I feel stupid because I am normally so careful about this sort of stuff and it's also bloody unsettling that someone, if they did, tried that. That's the really scary part.
So today has mostly been apologising to my mother, clutching my head a lot and wishing that I was at the BSU show. Which I promised I would be. And instead, I was dying and desperately trying to piece together last night. I'm safe and well enough, which is what counts, but eeek.
... fuck.
Next week, I have decided, is going to be a Good Week. Okay, I start a new job, but that means that my crushing monetary problems are slightly less crushing, and that is a good thing. And I can finally get around to see![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sevenhelz and susie22 and that is also a good thing.
I need to do a review of Doctor Who (I am not filled with squee, unlike everyone else), but not now. I just want to go and sleep. Sorry. Bad day.
~Hathy_Col~
Yesterday was a really lovely day. Simon came by, and I experimented with a new way of making lasagne, and then we lazed around being food-comaesque. I even got a phone call with a job offer - kitchen domestic, 8-2 daily, I can live with that and OMG I CAN START COMMUNICATING AND MAKING PLANS WITH PEOPLE - before nipping to the pub.
Then it went, well, quite wrong.
See, the first part of the evening was really lovely. I saw Jess and day and Dobbin again, and Day wasn't a total tit, and it was nice just to be out with Simon and yes, I drank. I do the drinking thing quite a lot, you see, because I am a student and it is all good and hey, job! I can afford it!
The thing is, and I have to point this out right now, is that I did not drink more than I usually drink. I did not drink anything new and exciting or different.
Anyway. There was drinking, and good-natured chatting, and catching up is lovely when the sun is shining and all that, but then the pub shut, so off we went to one of the bars that's open a lot later.
They refused to serve us without passports. Driving licences were not allowed. I mean, for fuck's sake. So, off we went to the Arriba. I've described it before - a horrible, nasty little nightclub in the middle of Ormskirk, but it was the only place left as an option. In we went, all sober and that, I had another drink (to be precise, a single shot of Aftershock), nipped to the loo and then... nothing. I woke up having no idea how I got into bed, or why the hell Simon was in the spare room, or why I was bruised and had splinters in my finger.
Long story short is that I (well, Simon) reckon someone spiked my drink, because I remember turning away briefly from the bar before taking the drink. OH GOODY. And it's not just a 'oh, you were drunk' because I have been there and done that, but never like this.
Simon tells me that I asked to come home and had to be pretty much carried the entire way home, the bruises are from where I fell to my knees in a vain attempt to be sick, apparently. My mother had to tell me the rest, involving her pushing me in the direction of my room. I managed to get into my pajamas, egads. I woke up in a shock at about 10, when I heard my sister talking next door, and tried to work out why I was bruised.
I'm just glad that I was out with Simon, because he took me home and made sure I got sorted. I am possibly the most unpopular person in my house right now due to being quite spectacularly ill during the night.
I don't know; maybe I just can't hold my drink in my old age, but I honestly think that someone tampered with my drink. And it reminds me how much I don't want to be around in Ormskirk anymore, and I feel stupid because I am normally so careful about this sort of stuff and it's also bloody unsettling that someone, if they did, tried that. That's the really scary part.
So today has mostly been apologising to my mother, clutching my head a lot and wishing that I was at the BSU show. Which I promised I would be. And instead, I was dying and desperately trying to piece together last night. I'm safe and well enough, which is what counts, but eeek.
... fuck.
Next week, I have decided, is going to be a Good Week. Okay, I start a new job, but that means that my crushing monetary problems are slightly less crushing, and that is a good thing. And I can finally get around to see
sevenhelz and susie22 and that is also a good thing.I need to do a review of Doctor Who (I am not filled with squee, unlike everyone else), but not now. I just want to go and sleep. Sorry. Bad day.
~Hathy_Col~
