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Jun. 10th, 2019 04:22 pm
Debauched days of summer
Sunday was a day of laundry, recovery, and dick pics. The last of these wasn't my fault--if you don't know by now that swiping through a gay man's photos is going to land you on a dick (sooner rather than later more often than not) then I can't help you. Plus I was laughing too hard at Johnny Balzac's distress to intervene anyways.
My stomach was bothering me most of the day, but happily it didn't prevent me from sleeping nor from serving my volunteer shift with the therapy dogs. This time, rather than being put in the main room, I roamed the halls with a lovely older woman and her arthritic collie. It did help me to hold back and observe the interactions between the students and the therapy team, which were varied and often amusing.
I'd done my system no favours on Saturday by day-drinking and snacking and putting off dinner until nearly 10 p.m., but I still didn't expect it to turn on me like it did. After all, I've done that before with no ill effects. Maybe it was the dip at the first house party, which had been sitting out for really too long before I took my last nibble. Or maybe the barbecue at the second house party, which gave my mouth a burn which wouldn't go away.
The crowd at that party was more familiar but somehow less fun than the crowd at the first. The guy that I fondled there sent me drunken jerkoff videos as he made his way back home from the bar. (I was, of course, already in my own bed.) I also successfully dragged out two introverts, which I feel should be worth something.
My stomach was bothering me most of the day, but happily it didn't prevent me from sleeping nor from serving my volunteer shift with the therapy dogs. This time, rather than being put in the main room, I roamed the halls with a lovely older woman and her arthritic collie. It did help me to hold back and observe the interactions between the students and the therapy team, which were varied and often amusing.
I'd done my system no favours on Saturday by day-drinking and snacking and putting off dinner until nearly 10 p.m., but I still didn't expect it to turn on me like it did. After all, I've done that before with no ill effects. Maybe it was the dip at the first house party, which had been sitting out for really too long before I took my last nibble. Or maybe the barbecue at the second house party, which gave my mouth a burn which wouldn't go away.
The crowd at that party was more familiar but somehow less fun than the crowd at the first. The guy that I fondled there sent me drunken jerkoff videos as he made his way back home from the bar. (I was, of course, already in my own bed.) I also successfully dragged out two introverts, which I feel should be worth something.