Part 2

I apologise for the abrupt ending in my last blog. I suddenly felt apathetic and didn't want to write any more. I curled into a ball and huddled in a corner somewhere.

Enough about that.

Right, I kicked in my automatic Plan B, which works for nearly everything. Find a room, shove everything into a bin bag and out of the way, then put the people in there. New tablecloth, glass dish thing. Wow. Looks like a palace. My middle finger still feels numb. I start to think that this BBQ may just turn out to be bearable. And that's when guests start arriving...

Three girls, Acronym, PhD and Sensible, ring the doorbell and I answer (a traditional response). I do the usual host routine. Do you want a drink? Put your coat here. Keys in the bowl. All that jazz. We sit and small talk and then someone wants to go get some cider. Why they couldn't do that on the way here, I have no idea. This seems to be a very common thing that people do and it wastes so much time. Get a grip, world. More were not arriving for a while, so I decided to walk them to the nearest off-license, dressed as if it were summer (well, a summer that wasn't cold and filled with rain). Met another friend on the way there, Chekhov, who had just been dumped two days before. No chance of her coming, right? Keep reading, true believer.

Sensible buys some blue WKD, we all reminisce when we thought it was strong and head back towards my house. Meet more people on the way, some of the lads. Whey, laddish. Let's go talk about that "ludicrous display" last night. Got there, got the home draught out. Nobody knows how to work it, so it's about 60/40 head to beer ratio. Haha, head. That innuendo kept us occupied for hours on end. More people arrive, more people than I expect. Turns out I invited people whilst drunk. Oh dear. I cook the food, people eat the food. Fun is had. Though I miss most of it, as I am cooking and making sure that my house isn't demolished. Be civilised, you absolute cretins.

Chekhov leaves early after being quiet the whole time. THE EX chases after him. I bet that was a great conversation. You guys can't even decide where each of you are going to be to avoid making things awkward. I wonder how communication broke down. Anyway, everything turns out fine. I perform my stand-up, which is filled with one-liners and a small story about how my Brazilian heritage does not make me good at football. Disturbingly nervous as I'm performing in front my friends. Strange. Maybe I'm not cut-out for it.

People leave and ask if I'm going clubbing after. It's a Wednesday, of course I'm not going clubbing. Fuck off. I get a hug from Sensible, which always stops me cold as if I've just hit puberty. Ach, only a month until I never see her again and someone else takes her place. Life is good.

I start to clean. There is a hot dog bun in a pint glass and Barry White in the background. This was so surreal, I just went to bed.

Christ.