Monday, July 13, 2009

Til Death Do They Party

Finished Snuff, FUCKING GOLDEN. Halfway through Rant, equally good. Seriously amazed by how much he must research before he writes a book. I want to go into ful detail, but i'll rant for about 45minutes and you don't need that. Wiki them, SERIOUSLY.

On another note- slightly too much partying this weekend and the house is a joke.

When your heart rate gets to 160, one tends to freak out. Then no sleep for 2 days. Constant smothering with vaseline. Bread is dry but an eclair goes down nicely. Leaving a club when the sun has risen, it's efinitely something you should experience at least once. It's stunning. High heels are stupid and that's why i don't wear them. You can't dance like you want. 77 is one fucking good club. I don't want to get old and suffer endless hospital trips. The beeping is constant and it teases my last fibre of rationalism. I don't like to get up, i'm so tired. At least my heart rate is basically normal. Very cold extremities, i don't get my flat-mates' temperature thresholds. Match Point rocks, Woddy Allen rocks. I want to party like in Party Monster, but with just a bit less drugs. The costumes and makeup are amazing, money, sucess, fame, glamour (death? No thanks).

Everyone says fatty foods is good during a hangover, but looking at i feel exponentially sicker. So to make me feel a bit more at ease, i head here

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