Sunday, February 21, 2010

Toilet Paper Bandage

I had finally just started drifting away, then the cat attacked my foot. I am starting to fear cats, I swear. I look them in their dengue fever eyes and can't help but see their possessed quality.

Last night was a disaster. I, of course, was only trying to help. I said to Maddy that she needed to wash the crusted chocolate and vomit chunks from the corner of her mouth, brush her red hair, put on a sparkly dress and come out with me.

She was rambling on about razors and pills and a never-ending hazy coma, but I still thought that a few pints could cure her.

I love London cabs though, they are so spacious and the cab drivers are totally polite and courteous. Not like the rude NYC drivers that argue with you about the best route to Brooklyn.

We went to a bar in Soho. One that Madonna used to frequent when she was married to that Guy guy. Or so I was told. I didn't even think bitch drank. Anyway. After a beer and a shot I could have a normal conversation with my friend. She actually laughed once, or at least she chuckled. But after three beers and three shots she was crying about the ex-asshole again. She wasn't just gently and discreetly sobbing either, she was bawling. People were trying not to stare, but the show was so magnificent that they couldn't help themselves.

I said; you need to get a grip on yourself. Get some perspective. She smashed an empty beer glass on the table and got a shard and scarped herself on the wrist. It wasn't a deep cut, but enough to draw blood. And that blood made a lady next to us choke on her peanuts. While some meatheads at the bar were laughing.

Out on the street, with a toilet paper bandage, she said she wanted to go down to the Thames and swim until she drowned or died from exposure.

I somehow got her home and eventually she passed out. And I am supposed to fly home tomorrow. I may need to call her parents.

P.S check this out;


  1. interesting story, Kim, were i in your position, i'd be totally panicked, too. dealing with a drunk friend is hard, and i personally find it very confusing on what to do in such situation.

    oh and, i love the way you mentioned guy ritchie in here:
    "...when she was married to that Guy guy".

  2. get out kim. now. come home. we want you here with us.

    seriously miss drawn to drama...this needs to change, unless you don't want it to. haha. loving your stories as always. hahaha about the oneword thing. i think i was drunk on no sleep last nite. you don't have to put a link up. good god. don't listen to my ass, especially when i leave comments at 5am. but thank you, you are sweet.


  3. call her parents. hard to tell if it's all for attention or if she's serious but you don't want to take that chance. suicide is no joke.

    then come home. why? because you've had enough drama for a while. and because i said so.

    xx x

  4. London must be great, I'd love to go there someday. I love the way you tell stories, in such a casual way but everything you say is vivid and powerful. Great work as always. Have a safe trip back.

  5. A first aid kit is always handy.

  6. London sounds amazing, I've been there and absloutley loved it. My situation was the same sort of, I wrote about it on my blog too. Also loved when you said "guy guy". That made me laugh.

    your an amazing writer, keep writing

  7. keep writing, never stop.

    i really love that you said one beer and one shot helped convo but more just drowned it.
    so true.

  8. Your friend definitely needs help. Call someone before you leave... she cannot be left alone.

    Much love darling,


You Rock. I am certain of it.