Don't judge me!

I know that I shouldn't care what people think about me, blah blah blah etc. But sometimes I REALLY don't want people to judge me. This is usually when I'm buying fast food.

One time my friend Sam and I had been drinking and watching It's Always Sunny all night, and the next morning we were feeling pretty hungover. We decided to go and get McDonalds.

I got a bacon and egg bagel, and it was the most delicious thing I'd ever had in my life.

But I was still hungover, so I decided that I wanted another one.

After much deliberating over the pros of having another bagel vs the cons of people judging me, I remembered that there was another McDonalds five minutes away. So I made a hungover Sam come with me all the way to another McDonalds just so I wouldn't get judged.

_____________________________

When I was in Tasmania I discovered how delicious Tower Burgers from KFC are. I ate more KFC in those two weeks than I had in my entire life (I wasn't much of a KFC fan before that).

On my last day in Australia (In Melbourne) I wanted to have one last tower burger, because we didn't have them in New Zealand. I went and got one, and it was soooo delicious I decided to get another one.

But once again, I didn't want people to judge me. I knew that there was another KFC nearby, so I walked there to get another one. As I sat down to eat, a horrible thought struck me. In my head, the map went like this:

WHAT IF THIS WAS THE SAME KFC?? One big KFC, with a kitchen in the middle, and a door on either street. What if the counter staff changed between the Swanston st side and the Elizabeth st side? Even if the counter staff didn't swap over, the kitchen staff would recognise my order, because I asked for extra supercharged sauce! THEY'RE JUDGING ME! I worried about this the whole time I ate my burger, and it completely ruined my last tower burger.

Later I figured out that they were different KFCs. And when I got back to NZ I found out that tower burgers had been released there too, so I didn't even need to have two "last" ones.


_____________________________

I'm a little bit scared of telling this story, because after this story nothing I write will ever be this funny again. I apologise in advance.

I hit a new low at work one night. After the usual half an hour long "What do I want for dinnerrrrrr?" I decided to get a pie. I went to the bakery and got a potato top pie, and it was sooooo delicious I decided to get another one. But once again, I didn't want people to judge me.

I tried getting my workmate Joe to go get me a pie.

I tried getting Maria to go get me a pie.

I tried getting Lincoln to go get me a pie.

So I decided to man up and get my own pie. But I decided to disguise myself so that they wouldn't recognise me. My hair was down, so I tied it up.

I took my lip piercings out.

I took my work shirt off.

(Ok, so I know that my onesy isn't my work shirt, but I was too lazy to go back and change the other pictures, DON'T JUDGE ME)

I raided the lost property, and found a hat,

 a scarf,

and some glasses.

Convinced that nobody would recognise me, I went back to the bakery.

As soon as I went inside, I started cracking up. I laughed hysterically. I was crying with laughter.

The guy that was working was quite concerned.

When I finally managed to breathe again, I told him why I was laughing so much.

He then judged me at least 53 times more than what he would have originally judged me if I'd just gone and got a second pie.

It also didn't help that a few weeks later when I went to get a pie the guy in front of me bought the last one. I said "Nooooo!!!!" and ran out. Now every time I go in there the guy gets a fearful look in his eyes and checks if there are any potato top pies.

The drunkest I have ever been

I've already told you about how I was a trainwreck. This is another one of those stories.

Once upon a Saturday I woke up at 10am to Brit (my flatmate) and Cheyenne (our friend) knocking on my bedroom door.

Being the trainwreck that I was, that sounded like an awesome thing to do on a Saturday morning. I had work at 8pm that night, but I thought that there'd be enough time to sober up by then.
We went down to the shop and bought a bottle of wine. We then crammed all three of us into a cubicle in the public toilets on Lambton Quay (one of the classy streets in central Wellington) and started drinking.

Slightly tipsy, we carried on towards the skate park, rating people out of one to ten loudly as they walked past. We thought we were so super sneaky and that nobody would know what the numbers meant. But after a few dirty looks I think they'd figured it out.

We finally arrived at the skate park. We'd been expecting to see this:

But we saw this:

Disappointed, we decided to go and get some more alcohol. I bought a small bottle of jager, which was my favourite drink at the time.

It was nearly midday, so we decided to go and get some lunch from the food court down the road from the bottle shop. Brit and Cheyenne got some food, while I declared that "EATING IS CHEATING" and started drinking my jager. Through a straw. Out of a paper bag. So that nobody would know. I'm so sneaky.

Pictured above: Sneakiness.

When they were finished their lunch, we tried to decide where to go to next. They asked me how much Jager I had left, so I pulled the bottle out of the bag.
I was expecting this:

I saw this:

Pictured above: Horror

I knew that this was going to be bad. I couldn't believe that I'd drank that much jager in about 15 minutes. How did that happen? But strangely, I felt fine.... until I stood up.

I don't really remember much from this point on... The following is what I have pieced together from witness testimony.

We walked around town for a bit. Not sure where we went or what we did. But then we went to visit my friend Doug at work.

The next day when I woke up, I found some sunglasses. According to Brit and Chey, I stole them from Doug's work. According to Doug, a security guard was following me the whole time cos I was so drunk, so I couldn't possibly have stolen them.

After visiting Doug we went to McDonalds, I'm not sure why. Brit and Chey ordered, while I passed out at my seat.

Pictured above: Pure classiness

I then woke up, just long enough to projectile vomit all over the windows, which were facing out onto Manners Mall. Cos I'm classy like that.

The people working at McDonalds tired to make me clean it up. My friends stood up for me.

We left McDonalds, and I somehow ended up getting separated from my friends. So I stumbled home, drunk, covered in vomit, at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon, through Central Wellington.

It turns out that Ben (my best friend at the time) had actually seen me as I was stumbling home, but saw what a mess I was and decided he didn't want anything to do with it.

I finally arrived back at the building, and was so drunk I couldn't figure out how to get back in. Luckily, a friend of Brit and Cheyenne's saw me, and helped me back in. Now I only lived on the fourth floor of the building, but the elevator ride seemed so long that I swear we were going to the 348913595th floor.

I tried really hard, but I couldn't hold it in.

I vomited all through the elevator. I finally got into my room, and passed out in my bed, covered in vomit.

I woke up at 7pm, vomited some more, and remembered that I had work. I threw on some new clothes, and crawled to work. I'm pretty sure I still had vomit in my hair, and I was still really drunk. Luckily the function that was meant to be on that night was cancelled, so I got to go home early. I'm not sure if my boss was grumpy or amused.

I met up with Brit and Chey after I'd finished work (around 9pm) and we went to a bar. I had one sip of my beer, decided that I had already had more than enough for the day, and sulked home, tail between my legs.

I vowed never to drink again... until a few days later.