'You're Sam Stevenson, SamStevenson always finds a way'

Well. Last night was good. I say good, but i haven't decided if it was yet. Here it is:
I started my evening returning from weight training at my rowing club, and i was running rather late for my school leavers Prom (Year 11/5th Form). Once i'd managed to get into my 3 piece suit (which is pretty fly btw) i was ready to walk, yes walk to my Prom. Stylish? I know right. It was only a 25minute walk from my house but still, effort. As i was getting ready to leave i heard a horn outside and moved to a nearby window to see who it was. My friend had come to pick me up for Prom in his Uncle's Bentley - what a legend. Anyway, Prom ended at 11:30pm but i wanted to get to this party, so i left after a brief while with the wonderful Amy Little :) (around 9:15pm) - later then i had intended. Because of this i had to run just over a mile home, in a three piece suit on a hot evening just to get home, change get to the train station and catch my train to this party. ALLOW. I made it with 3 minutes to spare, hitting the train seat heavily - out of breath. So long story short (you sure sam?) I got there. Now, if i'm honest i haven't got a fucking clue what happened AT the actual party. I met some sound lads from BMS and Wooton, and chilled with the host El DaCosta (LAD), Joe Mitford (LAD) S-G (LAD) and some others. My good mate Clayton decided to challenge me to various 'speed drinking' competitions scattered throughout the night, each one becoming increasingly easy. By the time i stopped drinking at 12:30-ish i'd had so much i felt like even though i'd stopped i was getting more and more drunk - Stumbling into the bathroom i looked into the mirror and simply though 'Sam, you're fucked'. I was - ROYALLY fucked. I continued to vomit 5, or perhaps 6 times in the toilet, bathroom sink and kitchen sink (sorry El), which just wasn't cool. I hadn't been this wasted since last summer, after which i swore never to drink again (yeah). I just wanted to chill with my mates really, but overdid the drink because i am a twat. Sadly i fucked this one up. It's now 20:50pm in the evening the day after, and i still feel rough, i swear i'm going to vom again. And why is it when i feel this shite my parents feel the need to have some in depth conversation at dinner? I just stared at a pea. It was DEFINITELY more interesting than what they were chaffing on about. Now i've slept 8hours (throughout the day), watched a repeat of flog it and drunk so much water hoping it would help. Oh and i blew it with a girl. Nice. Finally, with reference to the title my close mate Sam-Jay pulled out, (probably wise) feeling pretty ill before the party but told me on the phone ''You'll get there mate, you're Sam Stevenson, Sam Stevenson always finds a way'' I liked the sound of this, and it kept echoing in my head whilst getting the strangest looks as i ran down Clapham Road in a three piece. Note to self. Don't drink as much. I'd say i'm turning straight edge, but tipsy is a nice place to be - so maybe not.

Inabit. x

My First Blog

Well Hi there, if anyone's wondering about the name it's referring to Ruth Mahaffey, who is the loveliest person ever. Also Anna Charters deserves a special mention just for being equally awesome and bubbly :) It's Summer 2010, the sun is shining and i'm listening to 'Patrice - Love' which is an absolute tune. I discovered Patrice last week when i was in a shop in Maubisson in the South of France. I asked this cool french guy who was working the till in the shop who the artist was as Patrice's Love was playing on his iTunes, and after a brief chat i left - itching to YouTube this musical badman. Anyway, i'm not going to go on because there's a ham sandwhich waiting for me, and when sam gets hungry, sam gets HUNGRY. On my page i will talk about everything and anything, follow me :) x