Reason of my childhood shit-feel. This was a rough week. I haven't
felt like that since I was just 6 years old. And I'm truly glad about
it. I'll tell you, pink bubblegum IS NOT GOOD for your health. Why else
would I have been drinking the whole last week. Because of pink
bubble-gum, of course. Just looking at it made me wanna drink. And so I
did. The whole week long.
Everything started last Saturday, after my assistant editor had taken
care of publishing the new issue. I would have never been able to do
that myself. I had a terrible headache, from the previous week.
Anyway, it all started last Sunday after I had thought that it would
have already started on Saturday. It didn't. So as you can see, it just
had to start on Monday, as Sunday is my day-off. And there's no reason
to drink on Sunday.
So on Monday...wtf...why am I doing it to
myself? Why am I torturing myself over and under and over again? Just
to please your creapy fantasies? No way, enough of that. On Monday I
just went out with myself to have a drink for two. It all started like
usually one beer, two beers, multiple beers, tequila, rum, two pieces
of cake and a sandwitch. Some cigarettes,, 3 shots of pure vodka, a
glass of tea with honey followed a by bottle of Champaign. That was
enough for starters. I didn't feel too good, but it must have been the
bubble-gum which I just couldn't get out of my mind. Pink bubble-gum
how can anyone chew it?
Why? Where did it come from anyway?
Which was the first one pink or blue bubble-gum? These were the
questions that troubled my mind. And if I hadn't have passed out at
that moment I would have been forced to think about it the whole
evening. Fortunately I did pass out and spent 2 hours in a
slaughterhouse at least that's what I usually call it a house full of
tiny men with big egos wearing groovy blue outfits. THE POLICE. No
Sting, just the police. They throw you to the
That's the
plate!floor and forget you for couple of hours (or even for the entire
night like happened couple of weeks ago). No food, no anything, just a
plain slaugtherhouse. Where no one really gets slaughtered, but still.
You get my point. I hope. I usually don't.
Anyhow, where were
I? No coma this time, but I guess I just managed to pass out because of
some heart condition I'm not aware about. It couldn't have been the
drinks, definitely not. I just got started. Want proof? Well, after I
managed to get out of the house of tiny blue men with great egos, I
went back to the bar. True, my choice probably wasn't the smartest
one...to go back to the same bar where I had passed out. They wouldn't
let me in, they just said Guesss noone loves you monkey-boy. These guys
have been listening too much Bloodhound Gang, for sure. No doubt about
it.
As you most likely already understood they didn't let me
into the bar, so I decided to visit some other joint.However, the first
joint I saw was the gambling paradise called a casino. As I had bills
to pay, writers who were waiting for their fee and gangs expecting to
get back their debts, I had loads of money in my pockets as ... I
hadn't really paid anyone yet. And I was glad about it. Still am. I
think. Hmm.
So there I was, playing at the roulette table and
trying out a scheme that a friend of mine had suggested always double
the amount and you'll never loose anything. Well, sounded good to me.
And theoretically, it should work. I started out with just 25euros,
then 50, then 100, and
Don't get it? Stupid.continued with 200,
400, 800, 1600...25,600. I never won anything. But all I needed was one
win to compensate all my losses with this scheme. Quite simple and
positive, I must say. Only I had a little problem. After I had lost
another bet of 204,800euros, I realised that I didn't have another 409,
600 to double the sum.....all I had left were the old socks and couple
of bananas (like usual).
Bankruptcy. Not only for me, but
fortunately also for the paper The Cheers. The magazine was to be
closed down. And actually I was quite happy about it after all, if the
oweners of the magazine should decide to discontinue using Siim's
services, they need to pay him a huuge amount of money - stood in my
contract. So, why should I worry I was extremely happy about my
success.
But good things never seem to last too long I woke
up and discovered all the casino bull had been just in my dreams.
Dammit! Again, Why can't I be happy just once in my life? I was still
laying on the floor of the police station, waiting for the waiter to
bring me a beer. Pint? Two? God knows. You never know what to expect
from policemen.
One day they bring you a pint, the other day
two...and the third day they tell you that you're not in the police
station at all, but actually you're Siim in the wonderland and that's
how you look after what I was brought a mirror and ... people, please
do not make me drink again. That's how I look right now:
Like a freakin elf. And all that thanks to the fuckin' pink bubble-gum which I hate more than my own life.
Off to plastic surgery, see ya next week!
felt like that since I was just 6 years old. And I'm truly glad about
it. I'll tell you, pink bubblegum IS NOT GOOD for your health. Why else
would I have been drinking the whole last week. Because of pink
bubble-gum, of course. Just looking at it made me wanna drink. And so I
did. The whole week long.
Everything started last Saturday, after my assistant editor had taken
care of publishing the new issue. I would have never been able to do
that myself. I had a terrible headache, from the previous week.
Anyway, it all started last Sunday after I had thought that it would
have already started on Saturday. It didn't. So as you can see, it just
had to start on Monday, as Sunday is my day-off. And there's no reason
to drink on Sunday.
So on Monday...wtf...why am I doing it to
myself? Why am I torturing myself over and under and over again? Just
to please your creapy fantasies? No way, enough of that. On Monday I
just went out with myself to have a drink for two. It all started like
usually one beer, two beers, multiple beers, tequila, rum, two pieces
of cake and a sandwitch. Some cigarettes,, 3 shots of pure vodka, a
glass of tea with honey followed a by bottle of Champaign. That was
enough for starters. I didn't feel too good, but it must have been the
bubble-gum which I just couldn't get out of my mind. Pink bubble-gum
how can anyone chew it?
Why? Where did it come from anyway?
Which was the first one pink or blue bubble-gum? These were the
questions that troubled my mind. And if I hadn't have passed out at
that moment I would have been forced to think about it the whole
evening. Fortunately I did pass out and spent 2 hours in a
slaughterhouse at least that's what I usually call it a house full of
tiny men with big egos wearing groovy blue outfits. THE POLICE. No
Sting, just the police. They throw you to the
That's the
plate!floor and forget you for couple of hours (or even for the entire
night like happened couple of weeks ago). No food, no anything, just a
plain slaugtherhouse. Where no one really gets slaughtered, but still.
You get my point. I hope. I usually don't.
Anyhow, where were
I? No coma this time, but I guess I just managed to pass out because of
some heart condition I'm not aware about. It couldn't have been the
drinks, definitely not. I just got started. Want proof? Well, after I
managed to get out of the house of tiny blue men with great egos, I
went back to the bar. True, my choice probably wasn't the smartest
one...to go back to the same bar where I had passed out. They wouldn't
let me in, they just said Guesss noone loves you monkey-boy. These guys
have been listening too much Bloodhound Gang, for sure. No doubt about
it.
As you most likely already understood they didn't let me
into the bar, so I decided to visit some other joint.However, the first
joint I saw was the gambling paradise called a casino. As I had bills
to pay, writers who were waiting for their fee and gangs expecting to
get back their debts, I had loads of money in my pockets as ... I
hadn't really paid anyone yet. And I was glad about it. Still am. I
think. Hmm.
So there I was, playing at the roulette table and
trying out a scheme that a friend of mine had suggested always double
the amount and you'll never loose anything. Well, sounded good to me.
And theoretically, it should work. I started out with just 25euros,
then 50, then 100, and
Don't get it? Stupid.continued with 200,
400, 800, 1600...25,600. I never won anything. But all I needed was one
win to compensate all my losses with this scheme. Quite simple and
positive, I must say. Only I had a little problem. After I had lost
another bet of 204,800euros, I realised that I didn't have another 409,
600 to double the sum.....all I had left were the old socks and couple
of bananas (like usual).
Bankruptcy. Not only for me, but
fortunately also for the paper The Cheers. The magazine was to be
closed down. And actually I was quite happy about it after all, if the
oweners of the magazine should decide to discontinue using Siim's
services, they need to pay him a huuge amount of money - stood in my
contract. So, why should I worry I was extremely happy about my
success.
But good things never seem to last too long I woke
up and discovered all the casino bull had been just in my dreams.
Dammit! Again, Why can't I be happy just once in my life? I was still
laying on the floor of the police station, waiting for the waiter to
bring me a beer. Pint? Two? God knows. You never know what to expect
from policemen.
One day they bring you a pint, the other day
two...and the third day they tell you that you're not in the police
station at all, but actually you're Siim in the wonderland and that's
how you look after what I was brought a mirror and ... people, please
do not make me drink again. That's how I look right now:
Like a freakin elf. And all that thanks to the fuckin' pink bubble-gum which I hate more than my own life.
Off to plastic surgery, see ya next week!
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