It's all fun and games 'til someone gets hurt

Bet you're surprised to see me here. Thought I'd gone on hiatus did you? Yes well, I've had issues for the last few months, and sometimes, I just really could not be fucked even if I tried. Which actually sounds kind of familiar. I may have mentioned this phrase in one of my previous posts. Oh well. Comes in handy.

Anyway, let me just start by saying that in the lead up to Christmas, Vay and I have been generally pissing each other off by various annoying means, and basically pushing each other's buttons. It all came to a head on Christmas Eve, out of all freaking days, which goes to show how HEARTLESS Vay was at the time. HEARTLESS I tell you. It deserves capitalisation.

Clancy: Simpson, step away from the orphan, do not give him any more love. I repeat, do not give him any more love.

And I truly felt like that orphan, when Vay tells me he feels like breaking up with me, and uh, sooner, rather than later. I mean, he just can't STAND it anymore. Pfft. Whatever. He'll be back. He'd stated reasons like I was too needy for his uh, needs. And that we wanted different things, like I wanted to get married and do meaningless shit like that, whereas he wanted to live like a monk at some temple in Budapest. I mean, how could I compete with that? The saddest part was, he said that he couldn't promise me that he'd be around, cos he was all about number one. Yeah, what a cheap bastard. I mean, I wholly agree with you.

A few days later he did come crawling back to me, with his imaginary tail between his legs, like a good lil' puppy. There there, now where's that rolled up newspaper I left lying around. Apparently he had a talk with his brother and was somehow miraculously convinced that he'd made a grave error in judgement about breaking up with me. Which I've been trying to tell him, but no, he had to hear it from someone on the outside. Meh, whatever learns him.

Anywho, so he apologized for going about it TOTALLY the wrong way. So after endless days of crying and begging to stay together (my part), and ruthless arguments and carelessness (his part), we made up by watching Sherlock Holmes and I got a box of chocolates, and not one, but two Ralph Lauren polo shirts. Hmm, maybe we should break up more often.

Meyers: As Roger Meyers Jr., the owner of the park, I'd like to thank you for stopping the killer robots, and to show my appreciation, here are two free passes.
Homer: But there are five of us.
Meyers: [angry] Here are two free passes!
Homer: That's better.

And there you have it. My reasons for not updating my blog. Cos I was too depressed? Yeah, MAYBE that had something to do it.

Anywho, it's a new year people. And last night, a DJ saved my life. I mean, last night, I was invited to hang out with his family and friends at the Penrith Panthers club around the corner. It was a warm, slightly humid night, and there weren't that many people there besides old folk playing bingo and the regulars out the back playing pokies. We sat around outside smoking (well, Vay's brother Vuthy, his girlfriend Linda, Vay's friend Yara (albeit experimentally), and even, SHOCK, HORROR, Vay himself). It was the first time I'd ever seen him smoke, even in a social scene. Apparently he'd already tried a Cuban cigar, at the insistence of his brother. And as we all know, once you've had cuban, you can't go back. I was APPALLED, and I feared that he'd become addicted, AS WE ALL KNOW. I can't stress that enough, people. It was a bit hard telling him off in front of the others though ("That's disgusting Vay!, I mean, no offense to you guys, but that's DISGUSTING"), but I took it upon myself to do it. Well, someone has to, surely. It wouldn't be right of me as a girlfriend not to nag once in a while. It's practically a god-given right.

Vay was trying his utmost to look James Dean-cool-like, like an AMATEUR. He kept coughing and spluttering, it was like watching a car crash. You can't turn away, and all you end up feeling is sorry for the person, and tut-tuting. But what could I do as an individual?

We stayed there for a while watching Vay's sister Chanthary play pokies, which is another addictive thing to do when you're bored I suppose. Didn't end up winning anything though, as you rarely do. It was funny hearing Linda say that the regulars were paying close attention to what we were saying, even in their drunken stupors. Why, they could be CIA operatives for all we know. I watched one guy slip a $50 into his beloved machine, like it was chump change. And it was surprising finding out that some of them had been there since the morning, and even had the courtesy to call ahead for opening hours, I mean, being NEW YEAR'S DAY (for crying out loud) and all. There's dedication for you.

I sipped on various poisons, they didn't have vodka and cranberry (Vuthy jokes: "What kind of club is this?") so I settled for vodka and oj. Then we moved on to a bit of shiraz, a bit of something mixed with ginger beer (Superdry I think it's called, or at least that's what I heard, hmm, I think I'm getting confused with the clothing brand), and some kind of beer.

That was nothing though, compared to what they had in plan for even later that evening. Oh, it all happened innocently enough. They bought a bottle of Jägermeister, a german herbal liqueur and 4 cans of Mother, which apparently is a lot like Red Bull. We set up Vay's Ikea table (chosen by me, of course, though I had no idea it'd be involved in games like these - so that's what happens when I'm not around) with a round of chairs outside. Everyone had their own schooner glass half filled with Mother and the bomb itself, the shot of Jägermeister, which we dunked into our glasses and gulped the whole concoction down like it was Coke, which it actually reminded me of. I had two of these Jägerbombs, and I felt rather nicely toasted, as we played a few rounds of blackjack and I got 21 once, with losers having to take a sip of their drinks. Mine was wine, thank god. I'm pretty sure I can handle that stuff.

I was enjoying myself rather thoroughly, and watching Vay take up yet another cigarette, it was starting to grate on my nerves watching the bugger choke on his own fumes. In a brazen move, I took it to my own lips, and inhaled. ("You what? God! What a hypocrite!"). Please. I was trying to show him how it's done. (Well, if nagging won't work, maybe this'll learn him). And I was amazed to find that I didn't choke at all, if anything, I was a model example of the correct etiquette in smoking a cigarette. I even have Linda to verify that the smoke was exhaled through my nostrils, as the pros do it. So there. Take that ya bastard.

It reminded me of the time we were at the Gold Coast, at a teppanyaki restaurant where the chef throws food at you for you to catch in your mouth. I was nervous, and Vay was trying to calm me down by saying how easy it was, babies do it all the time. And what happened when the chef threw the prawn bits? I caught it of course, and he missed it entirely. Which just goes to show that I'm such a legend, that I don't even have to try.

It was close to 12 by now, and I was ready to go home and get some sleep. The effects of the Jägerbombs didn't kick in until around 2am, when I got up to go to the toilet and on the way back stumbled into the computer room and fell flat on my face, banging my head against something, pushing chairs aside and trying to grab for the table edge. Fail. (Linda: "It's all fun and games 'til someone gets hurt") Then I started whimpering in pain but trying to keep my voice down, and finally I got up and staggered back to bed. Where I lay helplessly feeling all at once hot, sweaty and bothered like I had palpitations, tired but alert, trying to decide if I should throw up or not, feeling that sense of vertigo, and trying not to lean on my sensitive stomach. Apparently they've even banned the drink in some bars seeing as this is what you get.

So yeah, there was my new year's day in a nutshell. How's that for starters.