A Week-End in Hell

I wanted to relax and not spend too much money over the past week-end. My bad.

My last remaining brain cells are slowly dying, suffocating in a pool of vodka / Red Bull & hunger. Because I was on strike for a while, and didn't eat shit; not by choice, folks, but simply cuz I was too damn drunk.

Our journey begins on Saturday, around 1. Mr. Finances & me went to the Banquise, on Rachel St, to have breakfast. We were agonizing on the terrace, with a blinding sun, when I realised that our waitress was the blonde girl who had spent the whole evening, on Wednesday, trying to pull Seba's pants down at Divan Orange, for his Gatineau birthday bash.

After an enormous Merguez omelette and a never ending tray of french fries, we went to Parc Lafontaine for Miss France's "party", where we found her alone with a guy called Éric. We ate chips under the sun, waited for our hang over to clear, and had lots of fun feeding a crazy squirrel some intoxicating Miss Vicky chips. He ate the last one upside down and went to sit somewhere in a tree when he had enough.

A short siesta was recommended, and when I woke up around 9 PM I invited some friends over for a few beers. We headed out for Mile End Bar, where Robeat, a monthly electro bash, was taking place. Maïté was spinning when we arrived, but nobody else was there except Mini and a few ginos. We just hung around upstairs, had a few drinks, and I took some upskirt pictures of Miss Nurse. The place slowly filled up, mainly with guys wearing expensive shirts and taking up all the space on the dancefloor. The music got real good at one point, and there was a couple that was "salsa dancing" behind me, and the girl hit me real hard behind the head with her elbow. When I turned around, real pissed, she seemingly thought it was funny and said : "Poor baby !".

We left the place shortly after the last song. The VJ for the night was the rock chick I had ran into on Wednesday, as well, and seeing her in front of her Powerbook, completely stiff, like a sexy fuckin' robot, made me realise how hot she was.

We went for a walk on St Laurent, where the street was still closed to cars, and didn't notice anything unusual, except for a few assholes kicking a garbage can for hours.

*

I woke up around 2 PM on Sunday, and immediately headed out to St-Hélène Island for the Ninja Tune Piknic. I picked up Mr. Finances on the way and we picked up a couple of Boris cans. Bad idea.

The day started up real smooth, I was having a few beers and chatting with people, the usual. A guy I vaguely knew - let's call him Mr. Bérêt - showed up, offering me some vodka / Red Bulls. I agreed to drink a couple, but in exchange I had to "take care" of the tall raver chick that was stuck to his back like a fly, so he could flirt with another. The task didn't seem too hard, seeing the girl was completely stoned - but I still haven't figured out on what. I french kissed her a bit, turned around to talk to I don't know who, and when I got back to her she was already french kissing another guy.

It started raining real hard but we had a beautiful rainbow afterwards, on top of all the "wet t-shirts". I don't know at which point I lost control, but I can mainly thank the vodka / Red Bulls - I lost count.

I only remember taking lots of chick pictures, being annoying to lots of people, and "waking up" in a hippies party somewhere in Rosemont with lots of people from Trois-Rivières and a girl from New Zealand. I still don't get that. Since I basically didn't know a single soul in the place, I assume I was pretty fucking drunk. I got the fuck outta there as fast as I could, and on my way out this real drunk blonde in her car stopped by me and offered me a ride. I never understood that. She said : "Don't touch me, but I'm taking you wherever."

I got scared and wished her good night. I also finally managed to sleep around 6 AM because of all that damn Red Bull I drank, so let me tell you that I was really nice to see at work today.