eleventh hour fun

cigarettes and cups of tea;
do nothing but fuel the ennui...



got last-minute-invited out last night, it already feels like it happened years ago, hung out with an ex-boyfriend and a new friend at a bar where the ex-boyfriend's crush is working.We were comped all manor of intensely flavoured cocktails and danced to some fucking-great music;funk, soul, hiphop, ska... we even skanked to the specials. Highlights included hanging shit on skanky-drunk chicks with their shirts tied up dancing with a herd of sleazy dudes and then posing as cover so my rad new friend could take a covert photo of her. There was a brief scare when my friend lost her badge, but it was recovered,and we ran into a boy affectionately known as Trashbag outside the pizza shop. I missed my tram and had to share a bed with two other people, my ex-boyfriend still snores like a train-wreck and kicks in his sleep, but it's comforting to see how far we've come and share a bed sans weirdness(unless you count bruised shins).You know it's a good night out when it begins spontaneously, involves skanking, skanks, subterfuge, and ends pizza and a big doobie.
I feel like complete shit ferris, but I'll just try to cling to the hazy memory of the fun I had.
fun is fun.