Being Broke Really Fucking Sucks
May 14th 2007 05:28
Holy fucking shit I hate having no money.
Before i begin, some background information is required. Week before last, wednesday night. I am faced with a decision.... go to work, or stay at home and sleep. Simple choice? Not really. I would get home from work, dead tired, at maybe 10am. Band practice at 1pm. That thursday night was a fluro party that I was NOT going to miss. I had to get up friday morning for a band rehearsal, then friday night was our battle of the bands. Saturday morning I had a midsemester exam, and that afternoon we were going to Nimbin, the stoner capital of Australia, for a weed celebration festival, aptly titled Mardi-Grass.
So. If I went to work, I would have basically 0 sleep between wednesday and Sunday, and be rooted for all my big events. I wasn't going to let that happen. So, I skipped work.
Thursday night was perhaps the most fucked night ever, hands down. I had $150 in my bank account, and I decided that $40 for the fluro party was plenty, leaving me enough for Nimbin and green leafy goodness. Anyways, to save money, i decide to drink alot before I go out. I think I made it through half a cask of goon (2 litres of wine) before I got on the bus. I was also popping a pinger, so I figured the rest of the night would be cheap.
WRONG!
Last thing I remember is 2 jaeger bombs and a pint of beer. Bang, Bang, then race the beer. I won. Then I woke up the next morning.
I have a stamp on my arm from a place I don't even remember going. Strange...
I check my bank account. $7.50. You cannot be fucking serious.
That's right kiddos, I spent all my weed festival money at some joint I don't even remember going to. What a fucking joke.
So, friday morning I decide I hate feeling hung over, and me and a friend drink the rest of my goon. I rock up to band rehearsal pissed, and can't hold the beat for shit. Not a good way to be if you're a drummer. However, by the end of the rehearsal I was sobering up, and started playing ok. It was at this point the band stopped giving me homicidal glares, and I stopped fearing for my life.
Friday night, inter-college battle of the bands. I flick my fucking stick in the first fucking song, and fuck up in at least 2 of the other songs, but we did ok. The band before us was pretty fucking good in general, but they had the most amazing drummer I have ever seen. Holy fuck can that guy play the drums.
The other bands were pretty good. However, memory of the night is clouded by the judges. I want some of whatever those fuckers were smoking, or at least a portion of their bribe money. We weren't best, i hate to say it, but we should have got a place. We didn't. The band that SHOULD have won it (the guys who won it last year, these guys were fucking AMAZING) came 3rd. A shithouse all-girl band came second.... and one of the worst bands of the night won it. Wait, what? The guys that hosted the whole show and picked the judges won, even though they were inferior to most of the other contestants? Like I said, I want some of that bribe money.
Highlight of the night. We get interviewed by some people from the UQ union. The UQ union representative is a stoner, and I recognize this because she has smoked with us before. She acts like a bitch, and I almost, almost call her out, but think better of it because, well, she's hot. During our interview (no one wanted to do it alone, so we made them interview about 6 of us at once), they asked us if we were going to pick up that night. Our pianist (who is the best pianist i have ever seen, seriously, he is fucking amazing. He also plays the sax, and can pull off a mean harmonica solo while blowing you away with his keyboard antics... i shit you not) says "nah, nah.... I'm just a pianst. I'm no lead singer". RIGHT AT THAT POINT, 2 girls come up to him (this was totally spontaneous and unplanned) and say "oh my god you were fucking amazing that was so cool you're fucking awesome", then walk off. He turns to the camera and says "Yeah.... I take that back". Best. Comeback. Ever.
Anyway, we end up stealing half a case of red bull and half a box of Mi-Goreng from the backstage area on the way out. Our own personal fuck you to the organizing college.
Saturday, and my exam. I finish answering the questions that I can answer (i left some blank because I had no idea) in around 25-30 minutes. 1 hour exam, no leaving. So what do I do? I sleep. Seriously, i slept for the next half hour and walked out. The supervisory people were giving me really dirty looks.
That afternoon, since I am dead broke, I almost don't go to Mardi-Grass. However, I end up convincing another girl to go (because she can drive and we needed her car, i'm glad she went though the chick is a fucking legend) and she doesnt really know anyone else there too well so I agree to go.... again. I am so fucking glad i did though.
We arrive at around 8ish or something... early evening. We find a couple of friends, and they tell us that it's hard to get weed because the cops have been raiding. What. the. FUck. Biggest letdown ever.
However, they were full of shit. We went looking, and 10 minutes later we had one of the best deals I have ever seen. A $50 bag. A $50 bag that kept 9 people stoned out of their fucking skulls for a whole night, as well as chopping the whole group up in the morning as well. It was fucking insane. A Brisbane City $50 bag will last 2 people like... 10 minutes. Ok, i exaggerate, but you get the idea. It was awesome.
Mardi-Grass is the bomb diggity. You get to see every generation collide, under the mellowed out umbrella of being stoned as a cunt. It was beautiful.
We also got some hash brownies. Those things are fucking intense. my ex-missus/best friend was there, and she was reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeally stoned. Borderline freaking out. I calmed her down though... that's a good thing about doing drugs all the time, you know how to deal with situations like that.... sometimes.
Anyway... I didnt realize that the following monday was a public holiday (this being exactly a week ago now, yeah, THAT monday). I only work mondays and thursdays, meaning that last wednesday I received.... a big fat Zero Dollars. So... I spent all my money and dont remember doing it, borrow money to go to mardi grass, and receive no money to compensate.
So, back to the focus of this rant: Being Broke Really Fucking Sucks.
Before i begin, some background information is required. Week before last, wednesday night. I am faced with a decision.... go to work, or stay at home and sleep. Simple choice? Not really. I would get home from work, dead tired, at maybe 10am. Band practice at 1pm. That thursday night was a fluro party that I was NOT going to miss. I had to get up friday morning for a band rehearsal, then friday night was our battle of the bands. Saturday morning I had a midsemester exam, and that afternoon we were going to Nimbin, the stoner capital of Australia, for a weed celebration festival, aptly titled Mardi-Grass.
So. If I went to work, I would have basically 0 sleep between wednesday and Sunday, and be rooted for all my big events. I wasn't going to let that happen. So, I skipped work.
Thursday night was perhaps the most fucked night ever, hands down. I had $150 in my bank account, and I decided that $40 for the fluro party was plenty, leaving me enough for Nimbin and green leafy goodness. Anyways, to save money, i decide to drink alot before I go out. I think I made it through half a cask of goon (2 litres of wine) before I got on the bus. I was also popping a pinger, so I figured the rest of the night would be cheap.
WRONG!
Last thing I remember is 2 jaeger bombs and a pint of beer. Bang, Bang, then race the beer. I won. Then I woke up the next morning.
I have a stamp on my arm from a place I don't even remember going. Strange...
I check my bank account. $7.50. You cannot be fucking serious.
That's right kiddos, I spent all my weed festival money at some joint I don't even remember going to. What a fucking joke.
So, friday morning I decide I hate feeling hung over, and me and a friend drink the rest of my goon. I rock up to band rehearsal pissed, and can't hold the beat for shit. Not a good way to be if you're a drummer. However, by the end of the rehearsal I was sobering up, and started playing ok. It was at this point the band stopped giving me homicidal glares, and I stopped fearing for my life.
Friday night, inter-college battle of the bands. I flick my fucking stick in the first fucking song, and fuck up in at least 2 of the other songs, but we did ok. The band before us was pretty fucking good in general, but they had the most amazing drummer I have ever seen. Holy fuck can that guy play the drums.
The other bands were pretty good. However, memory of the night is clouded by the judges. I want some of whatever those fuckers were smoking, or at least a portion of their bribe money. We weren't best, i hate to say it, but we should have got a place. We didn't. The band that SHOULD have won it (the guys who won it last year, these guys were fucking AMAZING) came 3rd. A shithouse all-girl band came second.... and one of the worst bands of the night won it. Wait, what? The guys that hosted the whole show and picked the judges won, even though they were inferior to most of the other contestants? Like I said, I want some of that bribe money.
Highlight of the night. We get interviewed by some people from the UQ union. The UQ union representative is a stoner, and I recognize this because she has smoked with us before. She acts like a bitch, and I almost, almost call her out, but think better of it because, well, she's hot. During our interview (no one wanted to do it alone, so we made them interview about 6 of us at once), they asked us if we were going to pick up that night. Our pianist (who is the best pianist i have ever seen, seriously, he is fucking amazing. He also plays the sax, and can pull off a mean harmonica solo while blowing you away with his keyboard antics... i shit you not) says "nah, nah.... I'm just a pianst. I'm no lead singer". RIGHT AT THAT POINT, 2 girls come up to him (this was totally spontaneous and unplanned) and say "oh my god you were fucking amazing that was so cool you're fucking awesome", then walk off. He turns to the camera and says "Yeah.... I take that back". Best. Comeback. Ever.
Anyway, we end up stealing half a case of red bull and half a box of Mi-Goreng from the backstage area on the way out. Our own personal fuck you to the organizing college.
Saturday, and my exam. I finish answering the questions that I can answer (i left some blank because I had no idea) in around 25-30 minutes. 1 hour exam, no leaving. So what do I do? I sleep. Seriously, i slept for the next half hour and walked out. The supervisory people were giving me really dirty looks.
That afternoon, since I am dead broke, I almost don't go to Mardi-Grass. However, I end up convincing another girl to go (because she can drive and we needed her car, i'm glad she went though the chick is a fucking legend) and she doesnt really know anyone else there too well so I agree to go.... again. I am so fucking glad i did though.
We arrive at around 8ish or something... early evening. We find a couple of friends, and they tell us that it's hard to get weed because the cops have been raiding. What. the. FUck. Biggest letdown ever.
However, they were full of shit. We went looking, and 10 minutes later we had one of the best deals I have ever seen. A $50 bag. A $50 bag that kept 9 people stoned out of their fucking skulls for a whole night, as well as chopping the whole group up in the morning as well. It was fucking insane. A Brisbane City $50 bag will last 2 people like... 10 minutes. Ok, i exaggerate, but you get the idea. It was awesome.
Mardi-Grass is the bomb diggity. You get to see every generation collide, under the mellowed out umbrella of being stoned as a cunt. It was beautiful.
We also got some hash brownies. Those things are fucking intense. my ex-missus/best friend was there, and she was reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeally stoned. Borderline freaking out. I calmed her down though... that's a good thing about doing drugs all the time, you know how to deal with situations like that.... sometimes.
Anyway... I didnt realize that the following monday was a public holiday (this being exactly a week ago now, yeah, THAT monday). I only work mondays and thursdays, meaning that last wednesday I received.... a big fat Zero Dollars. So... I spent all my money and dont remember doing it, borrow money to go to mardi grass, and receive no money to compensate.
So, back to the focus of this rant: Being Broke Really Fucking Sucks.
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