Michael Webb, I..

Do not hesitate to blog my anger, and believe me you will get a hard slap on your bruised face when you get home because I am very, very fucking angry with you. For the pleasure of everyone at home -
Michael got paraleticly drunk last night and fell into a ditch, then rolled around on a dark road with me trying to pick him up out of it and him rolling straight back. He nearly got run over. The police were called and they were extremely rude to me and I put up with ALOT of shit from them to the point where I was real close to reporting them, took you to hospital until you regained consciousness and then you threw up on yourself. Then you were screaming I DON'T GIVE A SHIT TAKE ALL MY ORGANS I WANT TO DIE. Then you called me a fucking whore and a cunt, told me to kill myself, told me you wished I were dead and that I was not the woman you fell in love with. There was a bunch of other insults slung at me, but you get my drift, no?
He mashed up his face on the floor but thankfully was too drunk to assault a police officer, however you would not put on your clothes (just your trousers because you couldn't work out how to take them off) and were thrown in a cell for the night. The police left me outside the hospital with no money and no phone and said Good Luck. I was left lone in the middle of the night in a place I had never been, drunk and shit scared. I had to sit in the hospital reception for six and a half hours waiting for the train station to open and my mom came to pick me up, and YES that was expensive for her. And YES it was cold and no I didn't use your card to buy anything because no where is open at 3 AM. I fell asleep sitting upright at 8.30 and a security guard at the hospital woke me up and said everyone was staring at me and I should fuck off home if I was that tired. I HAD A SHIT NIGHT. And I am, oh yes, so very very angry.