Turd of June.

After two masterfully rolled art pieces, several cans of glacier cold piss water and enough refried beans to plug the hoover dam, I wake, in a numb haze, this morning. Instant action kicked off. Grabbing the book I got off to a flying start.
Dad as usual had flushed the regular turd of an email my way. Fragmented as usual by the stupid fucking cell phone he uses. However, this morning, it was not all shite and I manage to get University sorted. I cant remember if I decided to go to University when I was drunk or not, but it still seemed a good idea, so hell yeah, why not.
I believe it was after this that I started to develop a pain in my forehead.

Soon after my room mate and "friend" of 6 months wakes up. Knowing now that he fully intends on ditching me I pay him little attention. However hes asking if I would go up to the accommodation office with him and I agree thinking it might clear my head.

Well now exactly 56 minutes after completing the checking out mission, were sat in the pub. And yes, the agonizingly cute waitress has convinced me to buy more beer than I need. They just do it so easily with their pretty smiles and pert tits. I'm now getting pissed. I ask for the bill, but of course the don't take debit, duh. They never had supposedly. Well i can tell you, I have some pretty clearish memories of using my plastic in the pub. So I leave my id and promise to return. By this stage my head is pounding, my bladders bursting and my mate wont stop calling me a goon.

Back home now, I get on the book and start speaking to mother. Whoop woop. Though today it seems like she is in a good mood. After a casual white lie or two about my plans, she seems quite pleased. Shocked I enter into what resembles normal conversation. I know its too true. I miss my bus. Shit. And now he wants to leave. So I pack in 5 minutes, packing all my money to the bottom of my bag. Genius child, that's me. After another 5 of excavating I'm ready and jump onto my bike and start pedalling towards the bus stop. Grabbing his snowboard bag, I half cycle, quarter stumble and quarter curse my way to the bus.

At the bus I manage to convince the driver to take me and my bike to the city. After dishing out some money, I remember about the bill in the pub. Grabbing a 20, I sprint over there and burst through the saloon doors. So I'm now standing there looking at pure honey, sweating my balls off asking for my id back. She hands it to me in exchange for the 20 and I run toward the bus.
On the bus I wonder where I have left the front of my head. More pain.

After some nice chat with the driver I get dropped of in a garage on 41st. Knowing I have to cycle 8 south and 3 west i embark. Now i get confused. Well after numerous mini blocks I arrive. So now I will share with you my dilemma. A 22 year old brunette. Stranded home alone. Who cooks, bakes, fries breakfast, and I'm trying to be a nice guy. How pathetic! Did I mention she is studying massage therapy? Dear Lord. However I feel I can cope..she is after all French.
Well after a veggie currie, fresh cookies, and a decent French flick, were still just friends. I feel confident it will stay that way.

Trying to get some sleep now, gassing myself out from chick pea madness.