Much ado about nothing to do

The problem with trying to rise out of the ashes of a shelled and gutted relationship is that sometimes you would rather run around in the debris with superglue and try to paste the pieces back together rather than simply move on. "Simply move on", what a bad choice of words. There is nothing simply about it. you say to yourself millions of people have been through this before and they have recovered so logically you will aswell. It doesn't help. You say to yourself that if two people want different things then sometimes a compromise cannot be reached and thats the end of it. It doesn't help. In fact nothing much does help. I find keeping myself busy means I have less time to solely focus on the missing piece of me. Its always there though as it always hurts.
You see if one party is still in love with the other, its very hard to get angry with them for leaving you. Anger can be a very useful tool in getting past something this, anger means that you don't miss that person and you don't worry about that person, it is a very selfish emotion. Without such a dominant emotion as anger you can find yourself becoming overcome with lesser emotions such as compassion, for the other party, sorrow for the both of you and finally hope.
Hope is the real killer. Hope takes over when the other party gave you no real reasons. Hope means that you never fully deal with the reality of things. You end up thinking about senariosin which everything will be fine, it'll sort itself out, the right word here the right action there and everything is back to normal. Whilst this may be true for a lucky alternative version of yourself in this vast multiverse, it rarely is for little auld you. Little auld you has to dust yourself off from the debris and simply wait. Do nothing but wait, it will eventually get better. Thats what I'm banking on anyway.

Women

When reading this please keep in mind I do not really believe a word of it, its just a bit of funny commentary on things i've heard sitting in the bar.
In my mind there are three different kinds of the female species available to man; the good, the bad and (of course) the ugly.
The Good, if your a man then you know the kind. you have a lot in common and my god she seems to get my warped sense of humour. she even seems to get along with my female friends and doesn't mind be going out with the lads on a regular basis. it seems too good to be true, well it is. give the relationship around three months and the boredom clicks in. that other girl at the end of the bar is distracting you from your dutyful girlfriend. you continue to go out for a month or so out of guilt before giving her the flick. She takes it badly, cries etc. but that same night you go out and never look back... then it happens, that girl whom i refer to as the bad appears.
The Bad, shes has that sultry look, that sexy way of acting. She ignores you but you just know shes loving the attention. you continue to woo her until at last shes walking back to your house whispering in your ear, you can bearly stand the excitement. The next morning theres none of that cuddles and chat bolloxs, she wants it again, you of course oblige. You know deep inside that she'll move on the minute something else catches her eye. you try to sway her, so as to grow a emotional attachment to you. something like a terrorist and its hostage. It never works, she does move on. and thats the one that hurts, every time you see from then on you feel a pang, god i want her, i so want her etc. There truely are worth the ride... if you catch my drift.
The ugly, your confidence shattered after that encounter with the bad, you gotta start somewhere right? this is where the ugly arrives. what more can i say, she'll do until 'the good' comes along again. and thus the cycle continues.

Drinky Drink Drunk

Alcohol the cause of and solution to all of life's little problems", as stated by Homer. It is said that the Eskimos have 40 words for snow (which they don't, they have one- snow) but the point is that they have a lot of snow around them. Considering this, how many words do we have for drunk? Lets see, there's drunk, pissed, locked, polluted, rat-arsed, fuck-faced, blotto, rotten, out of your skull, oscillified, wasted, shellified (to be a shell of a man), scuttered, drowned, boozed, well on, inebriated, intoxicated, under the influence, three sheets to the wind, tanked up, cut, well oiled, fried, pixilated (my personal favourite), plastered, blind, paralytic, legless, sloshed, smashed, stocious, langers, bolloxed, flaming, off ones face and or tits, and they are just the ones I can remember at the time of writing this. Please feel free to add to this list. This shows us that we, like snow to the Eskimos, are surrounded by drink and drunkiness. Now I myself are a happy member of this clan of people (not Eskimos I mean drinkers) and I do enjoy a good night out, I rarely however go out with the mindset that I will get 'out of my tree' (theres another one) it just snakes up on you. One minute grand the next floored (and another one). The theory that I hear quite often about this is the one of "it was the fresh air that did it to me" is a ridiculous statement to make. It wasn't the fresh air it was the banquet of booze you had in the pub that did it. The miracle of Alcohol is its power to make every decision made to be perfectly fine. What I mean by this is the way that part of your mind, the part that normally controls your actions, becomes smaller and smaller until it is merely a wee echo in the back of your head. It starts to say things like, "aaah now Nick you know this isn't a good idea, in fact this is the worst idea you ever had, that tree is really quite tall and its beside a quite deep river and its branches are quite weak and its home to the deadly eagle owl who's in heat at the moment, trust me here...". Eventually this voice is replaced by one that says,"don't listen to that, this is infact the greatest idea you have ever had, nothing can possibily go wrong, besides look at the tree its practically mocking you with its tallness, do it Nick make it happen, do it...". All that stuff about drinking being bad for your memory is a load of rubbish, being bad for your memory is a load of rubbish, is a load of. . .what was I saying again ah well.

The Hangover

It is a sad but true fact that my hangovers are probably the worse looking ones in the world, if Carlsberg did hangovers (and they do trust me) they'd look like Nicky. There I am in bed with my head on the pillow and my eyeballs touching of the ceiling, yes they bulge that badly, I see around corners five minutes before i reach them. A shadow of darkness surrounds me as like a black hole all light cannot escape my eyes. The redness of my eyes makes me look like an angry lemur with a grudge. The pain in my head means that attempting to think is not an option. A is for umbrella. The shake in my hands mean that using them involves attaching casts and standing in cement. Is it worth it? the look of death the stench of booze the horrid face of others as they gaze at the shell of a man before them, children running scared and dogs howling at the moon as I approach, yes, yes it is.

Warning; the effects described in this article should not happen to you, if they do seek medical advice immediately.