Like the fabulous Llahi, I decided to carry around a 'diary' of sorts with me, so I can happily jot down my thoughts and feelings during this promising day.
So this day, which happens to be yesterday, I traipsed off to Player's sports bar at around 9:30 something, intending to spend the day watching the rugby world cup games. The morning game, England versus Romania was already about 40 minutes in, and England was dominating the match.
9:45 - Halftime. Like a strong adrenaline withdrawal,...I am tired, knackered, yet it feels like I'm still withholding a hidden, deep fizzing desire. So I have to keep an account of each new stage of my deprived position, I feel sorry for those poor, unlucky souls unfortunate enough to read these. Although, maybe from their displeasure and bemused reactions, maybe I can evoke some sort if pity for this pathetic, woebegone girl. Like a beggar on the street, I shall sit here with my hands held open, hoping for some kind of sympathy. Fuck the pesa.
Second half - Back to the Rugby, England just scored another try, don't miss, don't miss, don't miss... ah missed it. Score: 39-3 to England.
Gary just walked in, wearing a nice pair of sunglasses, attempting to hide the fact that he's tired and hanging from a fun night out. Ordered a big fry up...and laughter and smiles ensue as we get an account of last night's epic fashion show... which is apparently the best place to get boozy and pissed on a Friday night.
Two cigarettes and a cup of strong coffee down the line, I'm feeling pretty good. Blackberry's flashing red, these batteries suck. At least it was a great birthday present.
Llahi says he can't come to the game, he's busy being lazy and cuddling cushions? Wuss!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand England won 67-3..ooh... those poor Romanian bastards.
On the look out for any source of talent available. Next stage; desperation. Scouring each line seeing who's befit, I am on a mission...to mars. I need to find a worth Martian. Narrowed down, there's hardly anything.. what's wrong with this town!
Kick off for New Zealand and France... let the thrashing begin!
Sitting at the bar surrounded by a buzzing rugby crowd.. this is fun! Considering there are two blokes sitting here who I have, kissed, on random occasions. This is not helping.
New Zealand has a striking 12 to France's zero.. har har.
It is quite comical that these two guys share the same name. However, looking at the first letters of guys I've 'hooked' up with in the past.. 3 x S, 3x N, 1x D... etc.. soon I'll be able to form words with them. Perhaps I should make it 3 of each letter, then I could start a new trend...3 guys of each letter in the alphabet! Woot!
'Are you writing a book?' some older rugby watcher asks, eyeing my speedo pen, happily resting in my mouth. No, I find myself replying, I am writing random articles. 'So are you a reporter'? No what do I...actually, maybe something like that...someday. With a bemused expression he turns back to the game. Yeah, I would totally tell you I'm writing a journal.. no, you are not reading it.
All Blacks owning this game. Think I've written so much already, I could actually start a book. A book based on the ramblings of a floozy, deprived loner.
Finally! France got a penalty shot, just before half time even! Better late than fucking never.
Tonight should be fun. If it is anything as boring as last Saturday, I reckon I'll show major support for my team... and do some serious tackling of my own.
Second Half! Let's hope France get some sort of a wake up call, show some actual competition, and put up a fight! Torn between which team I should support in this match... If they beat France, we have a better chance of kicking them out the cup, but if France beat New Zealand, we have all the better a chance at winning this damned thing. Decisions.. decisions.
And there's the final whistle! All Blacks won.. big surprise there! Guess the springboks just gotta bring up their game to win.
1:45- what should I do, go home? No power. Stay here? Hmm... fuck. I've only had one beer and I'm already feeling a buzz. In fairness though, I haven't eaten all day..shocker. Something must be wrong with me.
So I'm sitting here, by myself. I wonder what the other bar occupiers think, me sitting here, writing in a bedraggled notepad... which only cots about 8oo shillings. Score. Like Cammy says... I am such a friggin local... hah.
Chilling with Gary and some funny SA chaps including Neal. Quite amusing... oh no, parents just arrived. Oh dear... a little awkward.. let me just act, like this doubled spiced gold and coke, is just, plain soda. I think I'll survive.. I am not drunk. I've only had about four shots of this Captain Morgan now.. that's nothing! Please oh please... let this not be the day where your observational skills are exceptional.
Back to the deprivation. I find myself checking out every single fucking hopeful, sad enough, to have happened to fall under my line of vision. Once spotted by the Inez monster... they won't know what's hit them.
Tingling at a touch... just a little touch, oh my... how far gone am I really? Apparently quite far indeed.. wish I could paint a picture of this surreal emotion.
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