I've gotten to the
point recently, when you can rest assured, I’ll log onto facebook in the
morning and there'll be a hand full of statuses about last night's drunken
antics and this morning's hangover. To be honest, I’d rather miss out on all of
that, and just carry on watching teenage ninja mutant turtles in my pillow fort
until I run out of colouring crayons.
I mean, I’ll rock my socks out every couple of weeks, but every weekend? Friday through to Sunday?! Surely your insides would start to resemble a Smurf bludgeoned to death by a morbidly obese teletubby with a meat cleaver. Or a wooden mallet...
The finer details aside, I don't think it's for me. I mean, the occasional intoxicated party, followed by waking up to a hundred graphic frapes and finding someone's covered your living room wall with cut-outs of explicit magazines, that's fine. But every week? I'll stick with my colouring book for now thanks.
