The new year.

Starts with me being bored out of my skull. Blogging is a bit of a last resort, I don't feel like it, really, yet it does have some therapeutic value and let's me kill time in a way that tricks me into thinking I am being productive. Oh well here we go:
New year's eve was adequate. It involved red wine, a little tequila and then some champagne. Oh and lots of tobacco. More on this a bit further down.

There's not much going on in my life right now, or well there is, it just does not feel like there is. If I try to pull some pieces of recollection from the drunken mist of last week, or the last ten days rather... I ought to find a couple of things of interest.

If we start with last Tuesday, as that seems a good place sort of in the middle of the current 'situation' which can describe the slope my life is currently tumbling down. (Will the life of Adam come to a gentle rest or crash and burn like Michael Moore's cardiovascular system after reaching for a Snickers bar from the top shelf? Who knows. Stay tuned and find out!).

Anyway, last Tuesday me and a couple of friends went to the pub/nightclub however you want to classify a place with two bars and a tiny dance-floor crammed with drunk people.
One of these friends is a lovely blond girl. She and I decided to share a bottle of red wine. Said and done. A bottle becomes two bottles and given the current state of my liver and the amount of beer I gulp down on the side pretty soon I am but the slightest bit tipsy. (Yes folks that's irony right there)

This is when my friends decide to leave. They have places to be. I don't. So I stay, and go on to have one of the most, as I felt at the moment, entertaining nights of the past year. There was a blond girl to dance with. Another blond girl to kiss and touch in R-rated places, and a third blond girl (who seemed really sweet and a bit shy) to thoroughly check me out while being comfortably surrounded and shielded by a circle of friends. Friends who were (equally thoroughly) entertained by seeing their friend look at me with STEAK DINNER written all over her face.
Then the place closes and I somehow wind up in an apartment together with a (not so blond) girl from Stockholm who later follows me over to my place. All of this seemed like a welcome boost to my confidence in a time when such are much needed. One could also describe it by saying that I'm a drunk male whore.
Not sure which position I myself take on the matter.

Wednesday, I don't remember. Probably in recovery.

Thursday: My second to last day at my now former job. Place was falling apart due to intense service demands and too little staff. It pleased me no end to see our employers begging everyone to extend their shifts while at the same time cutting down on personnel. Poetic fucking justice was a term which sprang to mind. Later in the evening there was a gathering at Åsa's place meeting a lot of not-so-long lost classmates, I've seen some of them the last 7 months but hey, It's always nice to spend an evening with some familiar faces from what in some ways was a very different life. They all seemed alive and kicking, which feels good to know now that I think about it.

Friday: Back at the same pub as Tuesday. I'm not as drunk, though that does not mean sober mind. Or as slutty. I'm there with Rolf, we meet a couple of his 'acquaintances' who are both female. I spend most of that evening conversing with one of them, with the net result of me giving her a phone number (my real number). I go home thinking "Hey that's a nice girl. No way she'll use that number for anything else than as a novelty keepsake".

Saturday: I do nothing, bored as I am now. However, the pretty girl from yesterday does text me. Oh the joy one feels when furthering loose 'acquaintances' with beautiful people.
Do realize that I'm at this point looking forward to the prospect of sitting down for a cup of coffee with this person. Just sitting down for a cup of coffee, and thinking that it would be enjoyable without any sexual undertones. Then I think "Oh fuck, you actually like her a little bit you dumb bastard. This ain't ending well". And the story continues;

Sunday: Visit to my mom. It's not horrible. Oh joy. Decides to go on something which would seem to be suspiciously close to a date but officially ('cuz she said so) A date with tall pretty blond girl from Friday. It was to take place Wednesday. Was looking forward to it.

Monday: The last day of 2007. The agenda: Getting drunk and fed in Degerfors at a serious sausage-fest. Worked out all right. Still legally drunk from that. Wicky was pissed at me for no reason, in her typical way. I'm mean to her in return. Proper mean. Rawr, makes me feel like a big man. *sigh* I want to be left alone as I'm drunk, tired, and not in the mood to 'dance' with an obnoxiously drunk Wictoria. Clearly lying on a sofa minding my own business and wanting to be left alone is a brutal offense warranting further abuse from an all too masculine woman who thinks people will listen more intently to what she's saying when she tries to sound like Barry White. Now I love Wictoria but for someone trying to be exquisitely aware of whats proper and politically correct she can be about as tactful as a orangutan drawing pictures of genitals, using feces, on a hundred thousand dollar oriental carpet.

Tuesday again: Here we are. I woke up to a text message from tall-pretty-blond girl saying that our Wednesday 'thing which was not a date' is off. Apparently she's now dating someone she's know for the past six years. I'm not surprised, I'm not mad, and I find myself wishing them well even though that sort of relationship is blacklisted as a No-No in my book. There's something about the transition from just-friend to boyfriend/girlfriend that seems to, from my own perceptions and experience that is, to fuck up whatever you try to do hence. I guess it's hard to build something else in the same spot you preciously had firmly allocated to a warehouse storing used parts and old slag products from for example, past relationships.

Oh well a little disappointment on top of the black month of December -07 won't push me over the edge. I laugh a bit at the fact that my timing when it comes to 'these things' ain't exactly hellacious.