"For you, I might make an exception."

It's ten to eight in the morning and it is my birthday.
17.
My head is in absolute agony, I was so drunk last night.
And I will be drunk today.
Pretty much all of today.


I'm going to go downstairs in a second, have the standard cuppa/fag and then chow down on whatever food I can grab.
A.k.a fuckall in this shit house, we never have any bloody food!
I can't even have cereal 'cause we have no milk.
Bugger. I'm feeling hungry this morning.
Plus I can feel my ribs, which I hate.

I remember there being absolutely shitloads of food at the party last night, and I remember not touching any of it apart from three small chocolate biscuits and a miniature brownie.
What the fuck were you playing at, Kit! That food was gorgeous-looking!
Bloody idiot.


Just reading through my phone, got some lovely birthday messages.
Sone proper moody texts from the guy i'm seeing.

I'm so clueless when it comes to the opposite sex, sometimes.
Particularly when i'm drunk.
I think i called him like 5 times or something, pahahahaaaa idiot!
I remember him seeming really pissed off and wanting to know where I was.
So he could come down and batter/threaten someone who was talking to me weird or something, oh I can't remember.
Then I randomly put him on the phone to this guy who asked him how Ireland was.
Bad decision.
He got really annoyed and I felt really weird and depressed-drunk for like 15 minutes, then we started talking about sex and I perked up.
Turns out i've fucked/done stuff with more girls than half the lads that went.
Nice one, slag.

Dead impressed that I didn't pull anyone, though.
There were a few lads proper begging it, which irritated me.
Oh, wait I got two birthday kisses from a straight girl that kept giggling and hugging me.
That doesn't count, though.

It's now eight o'clock and my head is banging and i'm starting to feel a bit worse for wear.
Happy fucking birthday, Kit.