...of giving up drugs for two months. Of course, I haven't done any drugs since very early on Saturday morning.... so really, it's day...
Fuck.
Day 5.
Which means 57 days to go.
What a healthy attitude to be taking. As far as withdrawal symptoms go, I'm yet to really feel anything... I normally don't for a couple of weeks.
Vegie's gone down to Tasmania to see Chris Abery (the violinist who is often confused with my friend the skag dealer from Queensland. This is because I call the skag dealer from Queensland Chris Abery, even though that's not his name. Ahahahaha. Oh, Chris.) so I plan (we are now talking about Friday... that's right, I'm planning ahead) on using what would otherwise probably be an exciting night of fun and excitement to detox and watch Buffy and masturbate over Miss Israel 84.
I'm not saying that Vegie is the reason for my addiction. The opposite is true. I'm saying that in his absence, I have nothing better to do than drink a LOT of water in order to flush the inactive cannaboids from my system*. There's going to be urine EVERYWHERE!
*HAHAHAHA. No offense, SteveSteve, you boring FUCK! Nah, I jest, you're an okay guy.
Incidentally, for those interested, SteveSteve didn't end up pressing charges. He went in the next day, when he was told that he would have to do it with the officer whom he first reported the offense to (I'm sure that's not the case) but by Wednesday, when that officer was next on, his eye was no longer sufficiently swelled for a good photo/SteveSteve couldn't be bothered going to court. Instead, we will have to extract our own unique brand of justice on his attackers. I believe it's called a "boot party."
UPDATE: What a fucking day. You're not making this any easier, Life! For Christ's sakes...
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