Well, hello there Cravings. To be honest I was expecting you a few days ago. I mean, you know, whatever. You do your thing. But I’d have appreciated a phone call or something, just a heads up. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t get you at all. And I’ve eaten all the supplies now.
Anyway. If that weren’t enough, Tired seems to have invited Self-Pity to crash the sobriety party. And I’m not a fan of Self-Pity. She’s so goddamn dull, always going on about herself, not so much as a token effort at small talk.
To be honest, this whole sobriety party isn’t going as well as I’d hoped. I was thinking brilliant conversation, fizz and dazzle, everyone getting along well. But there’s just these few of us here, skulking awkwardly in corners. And the grapefruit soda is just plain nasty.
What we need is music. Bit of Tom Waits, a touch of the Doors’ Roadhouse Blues, some Elliott Smith to cheer things up.
Oh, hey, or party games. Pin the hangover on the idiot, Spin the Bot…oh. Maybe not.
Sometimes a party is just no fun, I guess.