Jeff is going back to New Zealand.

A few weeks ago I was sitting in the flat on a Saturday night eating pizza, thinking "life isnt meant be like this". So I decided to make myself more available to going out with people- like from my work and stuff.

This by Sunday I will have been out 3 times this week, which is really a lot for me.

Ive develped a friendship with this guy at work- Eugene, and on Wednesday night me and Ian- from work and Eugene went to see a film.

Then last night at Jeff's going away we talked constantly for hours about a million different things.

And the more beer I was encouraged to drink (yeah people cant grasp the fact that i dont want to drink anymore, so they keep buying me drinks and saying things like "Get that down ya" then I feel obligated to drink them- I digress)the more beer I was encouraged to drink the more Eugene and I talked- about things that I really wish I had kept to myself.

Like, the man, nice as he is, knows my life story now, and that of other people who are kinda entwined with it, and I dont know, I feel weird about it now.

The talk of politics was good though. But the talk about something that happened on my Birthday- that I really should have kept to myself, was ok at the time, but Im thinking about it later and just going- "How the fuck did that come up? and why did I perpetuate it?"

See I have this problem, I open my mouth and my life just falls out of it- get me on a roll and who knows what you might discover in there- and its not good, I feel uncomfortable with it now.

I feel like never drinking again- again.

Tonight Im going to Ascension with Angus, I really wish I didnt have to go now, but I promised the last few weeks that I would go and every time I pike it.

So I think I'll go for just a couple of hours, and come home.

Ok, heres one for ya: G is away on a guys drinking weekend down south. He left on Thursday night and he's back on Sunday night.

G is a clean man, he showers twice a day and is a fan of deoderant and aftershave and the like- so this will hopefully seem less gross.

On Thursday night I felt so odd about being at home alone, when I went to bed I got one of his T-shirts out of the laundery basket and put it on and slept in it so I could smell him.

Thats kinda bunny boiler behaviour isnt it?

And I lay there and thought to myself, 3 and a half weeks, sleeping in my old single bed at Nan's house, an eleven hour time difference, what the fuck am I doing?

Im gonna have to nick one of his shirts and take it with me- how pathetic.