Oops! During the day, there are seven more sicciska kittens who have liked my status – so I’ve been bothered by a cake of clear days for one more week. The next time I get to regret my drunken pilgrimages is on Sunday, January 18th. Help, the first sober New Year’s party ahead of me for 30 years!
Second day fought. In the evening when I was watching the tv-series ”Secret Lives” with my wife Fairy and daughter Sandra, I was overjoyed how the characters Stuba and Sergei would swing the knobs in the sauna. God, you started making a bisexual mind for me, really!
I’ve enjoyed booze tremendously from the time I pulled my first intoxication at the age of 14, and would enjoy every evening still, if it would not damage my health and if everything would not always go towards sloshed ass when I’m drunk.
A couple of days ago I wrote a drunk comment to Face-wall of ms. Summer, who drives a stand up club in Birch Village. I demanded to know why she has not ordered me to decent money gigs, even though I’ve done many gigs for her in some fucking € 50. Satan, I’m still ashamed of that message. I was right, but in the wrong place. And in vain. I do not think ms. Summer will pay me € 350/gig like she does to other head liners, because I’ve been stupid and gone to her clubs a lot cheaper than that – just so I could get a decent monetary gig sometime later.
The next morning after my comment to ms. Summer I decided to quit drinking. That night I however found myself in Melt Town liquor store’s queue again. In the pain of my drunk ascension, I gave a promise of temperance in Facebook. I hope it was my last drunken rag for a long time.