Sex, blood, and chocolate.
You know it's got to be the weekend.
Oh, and nicotine.
And probably a couple of pills.
And some ill-advised fumbling in the toilets of a club people only go to so they can complain about how it's not like it used to be in the good old days (presumably before they ever got there because none of them can remember a week when they weren't complaining) with a guy who's name you can't remember and wouldn't want to anyway and didn't you swear blind that you'd never let his cock anywhere near you again and since when have you been fucking guys anyway, aren't you supposed to be straight this week, only none of us can really remember, and it's only 50/50 that it's even his original penis.
It has to be the weekend.
Otherwise there's absolutely NO excuse for this kind of behaviour.
Someone give me a fag.
And another pill.
It had better be the weekened, because if this is Monday, I'm totally fucked.
