Slip inside the eye of your mind

So today I'm feeling bad as well, so going out of my room wasn't in the cards. However, Steve managed to drag me out to the pub (bastard) and well, there we watched the Spurs play Blackburn and win the thriller... really good match.

Anyway, we're there for a while, and then one of these girls (one of the waitresses, if you like) comes over to the bar and asks one of her mates "somebody ordered a fried egg... for table thirteen...... we don't have a table thirteen..." I'm about to say something, but as I don't know them that well I decide to keep my mouth shut. Steve doesn't: "A single egg? Who would order a single fried egg? Did you rally fall for that??" and then they realise their mistake (although I'm pretty sure she had already, Steve was just adding insult to injury). I just had to laugh, no way around it--you know me-- but I also couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her. Why would a bastard like me feel sorry for anyone? Well, if you remember the same thing happened to me during SAMUN two years ago, when I was handed a note for Italy. It just doesn't hit you immediately, but when you stop for only a second to think about it you just want to kick yourself up the arse.

While at the pub guess who I ran into. Yep, who else? It was fucking unbelievable... it's almost as if she's stalking me! Stalking me with Ryan on her mind. Bloody hell. I was just having a quiet drink (a coke... couldn't take alcohol because of my medicine... what the hell was I doing at a pub?) and watching Steve gamble away when I hear a very familiar "Arrrr, Jim lad!" I know it's her because she always salutes me in that way (why I don't know, really... might be because of something they did to me while I was asleep on the way back from Leeds?) and well, I know I have to say hello back. So I wave and she keep walking to the bar. Then on the way back she stops for a quick talk. I'm surprised she doesn't ask me where Ryan is (but well, I bet she knew he was staying in Manchester for the weekend... she probably asked him if she could stay with him!) but well, she then walks away to whatever meeting she was attending. What's worse, I have to see her again tomorrow first thing in the morning in my business lecture. The reason why I don't ask Ryan for a favour, Erc, is obvious. I hope you get this and you don't make me write it out for everyone to see.

Steve started to gamble again while at the pub; this time on a quiz machine. I've seen him lose at least a tenner at that, but I was surprised that he managed to win 5 quid this time around. I can't describe in words how happy he was. The question was, though, could he just walk away with the five? Of course not! You should've seen coming. So I warned him to stay away and use his 5 quid to get himself something or to go out another night, but once he told me to fuck off I just sat back and enjoyed. He ended up with net winnings of zero pounds (which means, if you haven't figured it out, Tiny, he lost the four pounds he had made profit on). I got to perform the "I told you so" routine... good stuff.

What was not so good was the pool game. There's this unwritten rule in pool that if your opponent pockets in all his balls and you haven't pocketed in one of yours, you have to do a lap around the pool table in your boxers. You see where I'm going with this. I was having the shittiest of games, probably because of my atrocious headace, and kept missing the easy ones (and the harder ones as well. Just go give you an idea I missed four semi-straight ones that hit the lip of the hole and bounced out. In contrast, Steve was in a roll. He managed to pocket five balls in his first two turns. I was completely fucked. But then he had a lapse and only scored one in his next three turns. I couldn't see myself pocketing one, though. I was almost starting to unbutton my jeans (not because I wanted to, but I just knew that Steve wouldn't let it go as I had made him run around the block in his boxers when he lost to me in ProEvo) when I pocketed the most flukiest of balls (well, it wasn't... I've pocketed many more unrealistic ones than that... but it wasn't one that I would normally pocket) and saved myself from freezing my legs off. Well, I did freeze myself to death when we left the pub to head the the flat, but it's not th same thing... fucking weather is terrible these past weeks!