Background: I went to Lourdes. I helped out in processions, carrying the statue of Mary and bowls of incense.
I have experience in processions. I was called to do this one.
Right, the way there. Fairly unmemorable. The parish priest waited behind for all latecomers and the leader, some woman who has NEVER gone to church, was supposed to lead us. She has never been to London. Fucking hell.
Just in case you were confused, this is about the State visit of the Pope. Cool.
Got at Hyde Park and the leader's authority was challenged by my Dad and my uncle leading everyone to the correct entrance, not the one for the Pope. We cannot go there. Idiots.
I assembled my banner so the whole parish could follow me for some reason. I have no idea why I was suddenly made responsible for everyone. I was told to slow down so people could catch up. Fuck off, keep up. I am not responsible for the slow people that only go to church at Christmas and when the Pope shows up. Go away.
FEW QUOTES FROM MY DAD BEFORE LEAVING:
"You're dressed like that? Who do you think you're meeting?"
"Did you shave? WHY NOT?!"
"Wear a proper shirt."
Took ages to find the proper place to line up to proceed.
FUNNY LINE:
"How much is a programme?"
"£10."
"Well, that's hardly Christian."
Chortle.
Tired, I will finish this tomorrow. I apologise about that lack of quality.
Sunday, 19 September 2010
Thursday, 2 September 2010
Rants and Results 19/08/10
Dreaded results day. The bane of every 18 year old in the country. Unless you stopped at 16. In which case, enjoy living on the taxpayer's money.
Does that sound elitist? Damn fucking right it does.
The night before, everybody stayed up, unable to sleep due to anxiety. Chatting away on Facebook and the like, waiting until 8am when they could constantly refresh UCAS Track and find out if they got into university. I just lied on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Reading. I am so cool and above the system, it astounds generations.
Got up at 6am and tried to get my mind off the day with some Sky TV. It was all bullshit where kids opened their results and got what they wanted. In some cases, very elderly people were getting their results and then going to university. What?! Places are scarce as it is without octogenarians applying to UCL too. If you haven't gone to university by 35, fuck off and leave it to the people without liver spots and Alzheimer's. Greedy.
I was refreshing from 9-11 and eventually got an acceptance from Aberdeen...wait. That's my insurance. FUCK.
Suddenly, I was in a nervous sweat about how badly I had messed up my exams and how many lashes of the whip my parents were going to give me. All calm had taken a shuttle bus to Malaga and I was left like a wreck. I decided to go as early as I could to the tube station, thinking a nice walk would get my mind off the life changing results. It didn't. I waited calmly at the tube station for my friend to arrive, whose UCAS app was not working. Bricks will be shat.
Arrived to a school that had looked like it staged the Holocaust. Yeah, I went there. Someone was handing leaflets to a local university that said "NO UCAS POINTS REQUIRED!" Cheeky git. Anyway, we walked in and there were people frantically looking through the Independent and on the phone. Clearing has begun. I got my results and instructed to fill in a form telling the school where I was going. Aberdeen. This got me a crap Scottish accent, frankly racist, in a light attempt to make things less futile. Not that they were futile. I missed out on two marks. I can live with that, I can now sleep at night.
A trick to figuring out if people have to go through Clearing is that they tend to not stay for long, rushing out of their room with the paper to the nearest payphone. I feel for them, Clearing is a massive lottery that could end up with people making desperate moves just so they can go to university. It's a shit situation to be in and they shouldn't have to go through that. However, I am not nearly versed enough in the system to suggest any possible changes. I called my firm to ask/beg for a place and they told me that they were already 20 places overbooked. Wow. Maybe some universities need to get a grip.
This means that there will be a "Uniblog", hopefully starting on the 18th of September, writing about the 18th of September. It's been a long time since I wrote about something on that exact day.
This all depends if I meet the Pope or not. That'll be the last excerpt of Holiblog.
In the business, we call that a professional tease or a cliffhanger.
See you next time if something actually happens in this holiday. And I'll write about France too.
Does that sound elitist? Damn fucking right it does.
The night before, everybody stayed up, unable to sleep due to anxiety. Chatting away on Facebook and the like, waiting until 8am when they could constantly refresh UCAS Track and find out if they got into university. I just lied on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Reading. I am so cool and above the system, it astounds generations.
Got up at 6am and tried to get my mind off the day with some Sky TV. It was all bullshit where kids opened their results and got what they wanted. In some cases, very elderly people were getting their results and then going to university. What?! Places are scarce as it is without octogenarians applying to UCL too. If you haven't gone to university by 35, fuck off and leave it to the people without liver spots and Alzheimer's. Greedy.
I was refreshing from 9-11 and eventually got an acceptance from Aberdeen...wait. That's my insurance. FUCK.
Suddenly, I was in a nervous sweat about how badly I had messed up my exams and how many lashes of the whip my parents were going to give me. All calm had taken a shuttle bus to Malaga and I was left like a wreck. I decided to go as early as I could to the tube station, thinking a nice walk would get my mind off the life changing results. It didn't. I waited calmly at the tube station for my friend to arrive, whose UCAS app was not working. Bricks will be shat.
Arrived to a school that had looked like it staged the Holocaust. Yeah, I went there. Someone was handing leaflets to a local university that said "NO UCAS POINTS REQUIRED!" Cheeky git. Anyway, we walked in and there were people frantically looking through the Independent and on the phone. Clearing has begun. I got my results and instructed to fill in a form telling the school where I was going. Aberdeen. This got me a crap Scottish accent, frankly racist, in a light attempt to make things less futile. Not that they were futile. I missed out on two marks. I can live with that, I can now sleep at night.
A trick to figuring out if people have to go through Clearing is that they tend to not stay for long, rushing out of their room with the paper to the nearest payphone. I feel for them, Clearing is a massive lottery that could end up with people making desperate moves just so they can go to university. It's a shit situation to be in and they shouldn't have to go through that. However, I am not nearly versed enough in the system to suggest any possible changes. I called my firm to ask/beg for a place and they told me that they were already 20 places overbooked. Wow. Maybe some universities need to get a grip.
This means that there will be a "Uniblog", hopefully starting on the 18th of September, writing about the 18th of September. It's been a long time since I wrote about something on that exact day.
This all depends if I meet the Pope or not. That'll be the last excerpt of Holiblog.
In the business, we call that a professional tease or a cliffhanger.
See you next time if something actually happens in this holiday. And I'll write about France too.
Sunday, 22 August 2010
The Day I Just Couldn't Be Arsed 16/08/10
I have missed out about a week on this blog, because I do not remember the events in much detail. I saw some people, had a few drinks, played some football, I think. Whatever. Not that eventful. If I saw people in this time gap, then be more interesting or remind me to write it in this blog earlier. That would mean you were reading this. Ha!
Right, two birthday parties on the same day. Well...one and a half. PhD (I think that's what I called her) didn't celebrate her birthday because of exams, so she delayed it until the summer. When I am lacking funds. Some people just are not considerate of other people's bank balances. Whatever. The other party was at "fun-club-and-reasonably-shit-night", Oceana. Oh dear. It was on a student night when university is finished. So there are no students. Is it me? Am I the only one that sees this? Am I the only one that knows it will be a crap night? Let's continue...
I was drunk in the early morning and decided to confirm my attendance at Oceana with a lovely Facebook message, something about me being able to get drunk off of my own breath. The general gist of the embarrassing message was, "I am attending". That message more or less sends you to your grave. It's like a marriage proposal. You can't get out of it. For life.
Firstly, PhD's party at Nando's. This place confuses me. It's neither a restaurant nor a fast food place. They do not serve fast food, but expect you to get your own cutlery and order at the till. Weird. Surreal. Hmmm. Any fucking way, I turn up with a friend (that was invited, I'm an arsehole), only to find out that there is tension in the group. Somebody is now going out with somebody else's crush. This is an 18.5th birthday. Grow the fuck up everyone. After listening to this boring tale, I start talking to Sensible and delude myself into believing that I have a "shot" with her. My mind needs to shut up and see some sense. Wake up and smell the coffee, as idiots say.
Suddenly, I get wind of people going to the pub. People that I like. Going to the pub. The pub that I like. Nearer to my house than that awful club. Wheels start to turn.
I CAN GO TO THE PUB INSTEAD!
If there's something that I learn from this, it is never have an individual thought again. Attracts nothing but trouble.
Sensible laughs at my jokes. My work is done. Me and my friend leave for the pub, whilst I ignore every call I get frm the birthday girl, wondering my location. I eventually answer one and respond with "I'm on my way. Go into the club and I'll see you there." I'm such an idiot. It's unbelievable. I haven't even found the correct bus stop yet.
Eventually, we get to the bus stop to meet somebody who thinks that he is P. Diddy/Usher/Generic Black Urban Artist. He cannot read and supports Arsenal. I wonder what day it is and he stops me to say, "It's Monday. Hard to keep track. Time goes...so fast."
...WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!
The bus arrives and a rotund man turns around and says, "Guys, the bus is here."
...WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! I'M NOT YOUR GUY!
Take the bus to the pub, general banter, pool, money lost on quiz machine. Nice evening. Followed by illegal activities with my friend, his brother and his brother's mates. Mint.
NEXT MORNING:
Birthday Girl's status: Some cunts are just rude.
Unliked my comment about turning up.
Bitches.
Fucking overreaction. I hope your party was absolute shit. My caring for your feelings went...so fast.
Right, two birthday parties on the same day. Well...one and a half. PhD (I think that's what I called her) didn't celebrate her birthday because of exams, so she delayed it until the summer. When I am lacking funds. Some people just are not considerate of other people's bank balances. Whatever. The other party was at "fun-club-and-reasonably-shit-night", Oceana. Oh dear. It was on a student night when university is finished. So there are no students. Is it me? Am I the only one that sees this? Am I the only one that knows it will be a crap night? Let's continue...
I was drunk in the early morning and decided to confirm my attendance at Oceana with a lovely Facebook message, something about me being able to get drunk off of my own breath. The general gist of the embarrassing message was, "I am attending". That message more or less sends you to your grave. It's like a marriage proposal. You can't get out of it. For life.
Firstly, PhD's party at Nando's. This place confuses me. It's neither a restaurant nor a fast food place. They do not serve fast food, but expect you to get your own cutlery and order at the till. Weird. Surreal. Hmmm. Any fucking way, I turn up with a friend (that was invited, I'm an arsehole), only to find out that there is tension in the group. Somebody is now going out with somebody else's crush. This is an 18.5th birthday. Grow the fuck up everyone. After listening to this boring tale, I start talking to Sensible and delude myself into believing that I have a "shot" with her. My mind needs to shut up and see some sense. Wake up and smell the coffee, as idiots say.
Suddenly, I get wind of people going to the pub. People that I like. Going to the pub. The pub that I like. Nearer to my house than that awful club. Wheels start to turn.
I CAN GO TO THE PUB INSTEAD!
If there's something that I learn from this, it is never have an individual thought again. Attracts nothing but trouble.
Sensible laughs at my jokes. My work is done. Me and my friend leave for the pub, whilst I ignore every call I get frm the birthday girl, wondering my location. I eventually answer one and respond with "I'm on my way. Go into the club and I'll see you there." I'm such an idiot. It's unbelievable. I haven't even found the correct bus stop yet.
Eventually, we get to the bus stop to meet somebody who thinks that he is P. Diddy/Usher/Generic Black Urban Artist. He cannot read and supports Arsenal. I wonder what day it is and he stops me to say, "It's Monday. Hard to keep track. Time goes...so fast."
...WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!
The bus arrives and a rotund man turns around and says, "Guys, the bus is here."
...WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! I'M NOT YOUR GUY!
Take the bus to the pub, general banter, pool, money lost on quiz machine. Nice evening. Followed by illegal activities with my friend, his brother and his brother's mates. Mint.
NEXT MORNING:
Birthday Girl's status: Some cunts are just rude.
Unliked my comment about turning up.
Bitches.
Fucking overreaction. I hope your party was absolute shit. My caring for your feelings went...so fast.
Saturday, 21 August 2010
Greedy Second Party 05/08/10
Right, there was a birthday drinks thing on the Tuesday. FINE.
Then, she decides to go clubbing two days later, in Central London. For me, this is just plain greedy. This happened earlier in the year when someone had a party at Orange RockCorps. Right, first off, that's not a party. They all had to do community service to get tickets to it, which is actually a good idea to get people involved. 'Tis a shame the line-up is always utter shit. Then, she had another picnic party where we had a water fight and played hide-and-seek. This is an 18th by the way. Shambles. I found a place to buy six cans of Strongbow. Drank it. There we go.
That was a nice interlude. Club was called On Anon. Looked it up on Google Maps to find the place and there were reviews of an average 1.5 stars. This evening looked like it would be a massive flop. Ergh, I hate being right...not really. I LOVE IT.
Got there just after 9:30, so I had to pay entry. Fuck. Got my arse squeezed by the bouncer. Fuck. Went inside to buy entry and got this exchange:
"By yourself?"
"My friends are upstairs."
"Aww, but you're by yourself?"
Patronising bitch.
Went up. Out group seemed to be half the people in this club. It's nearly 10. FUCK. A lot of Asian jokes that everybody gets but me and the other white person there. Great. A lot of complaining about Asian men looking at them, despite wearing low cut tops and short skirts. Such double standards. At least, I think they are. Do not truly know what "double standard" means. Ergh, fuck.
Crap music. Crap club. Good drinks, but at crap prices. Oh dear.
Two hour trip home. Nothing notable. Man with ponytail at bus stop wouldn't get off of his mail order bride.
Got home and just fell into a daze. Put some Barry White on. Pathetic. I hope nobody ever has a birthday again.
Then, she decides to go clubbing two days later, in Central London. For me, this is just plain greedy. This happened earlier in the year when someone had a party at Orange RockCorps. Right, first off, that's not a party. They all had to do community service to get tickets to it, which is actually a good idea to get people involved. 'Tis a shame the line-up is always utter shit. Then, she had another picnic party where we had a water fight and played hide-and-seek. This is an 18th by the way. Shambles. I found a place to buy six cans of Strongbow. Drank it. There we go.
That was a nice interlude. Club was called On Anon. Looked it up on Google Maps to find the place and there were reviews of an average 1.5 stars. This evening looked like it would be a massive flop. Ergh, I hate being right...not really. I LOVE IT.
Got there just after 9:30, so I had to pay entry. Fuck. Got my arse squeezed by the bouncer. Fuck. Went inside to buy entry and got this exchange:
"By yourself?"
"My friends are upstairs."
"Aww, but you're by yourself?"
Patronising bitch.
Went up. Out group seemed to be half the people in this club. It's nearly 10. FUCK. A lot of Asian jokes that everybody gets but me and the other white person there. Great. A lot of complaining about Asian men looking at them, despite wearing low cut tops and short skirts. Such double standards. At least, I think they are. Do not truly know what "double standard" means. Ergh, fuck.
Crap music. Crap club. Good drinks, but at crap prices. Oh dear.
Two hour trip home. Nothing notable. Man with ponytail at bus stop wouldn't get off of his mail order bride.
Got home and just fell into a daze. Put some Barry White on. Pathetic. I hope nobody ever has a birthday again.
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.
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.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
The Day I Hosted 04/08/10 (Part 1)
I had a 10 pint home draught, I cannot actually drink that by myself. It is not within me. Therefore, I invited people round for a BBQ to all drink it together. Here is that story and will probably explain why I do not usually host things.
Woke up at 10:30. People were arriving at 12:30. And I had no food for a BBQ. Oh fucking dear. Dressed into my oldest clothes and then ran off to the bus stop with some loose notes and a desire not to make this day a waste for anyone. Got on the bus with my mp3 on, knowing that I had no money left on my Oyster and if I had my music blaring, I cannot hear the driver shouting at me. Absolute intelligence at its finest.
Got off the bus near the Shopping Centre and walked past the charity book shop, saw something I wanted and bought it. A book by Jasper Fforde that I wanted. This put me below budget for the barbecue. Oh, tiddlywinks. I bought meat and drinks AKA Coca Cola. Some woman gave me a look as if to say, "You've never been shopping in your life." And you've never stopped shopping, I see you here every week. Bitch.
Right. Now we get the problem of the TESCO shopping bags, which seem to be made out of incompetent clouds. As soon as I was away from the shop, they ripped. I can't go back now, but I do not know how to carry these items. Suddenly, I saw a familiar face. Now, I think I was obviously in need of help, so I thought this guy might help out a bit. Just carry one Coke bottle, that's all. I got fuck all. Go fuck yourself, mate. Get onto the bus in an awkward position that nearly breaks my wrist and actually makes my middle finger numb for a week. Didn't see the doctor, I'm far too arrogant for that.
Get home. Ow. Set the table and the chairs outside. New tablecloth. Freshly mowed lawn. Perfect.
It starts to rain. At a BBQ. I stand there for five minutes, contemplating life and my very existence. I was going to have a mental breakdown, but I'm far too arrogant for that.
PART 2 COMING SOON
Woke up at 10:30. People were arriving at 12:30. And I had no food for a BBQ. Oh fucking dear. Dressed into my oldest clothes and then ran off to the bus stop with some loose notes and a desire not to make this day a waste for anyone. Got on the bus with my mp3 on, knowing that I had no money left on my Oyster and if I had my music blaring, I cannot hear the driver shouting at me. Absolute intelligence at its finest.
Got off the bus near the Shopping Centre and walked past the charity book shop, saw something I wanted and bought it. A book by Jasper Fforde that I wanted. This put me below budget for the barbecue. Oh, tiddlywinks. I bought meat and drinks AKA Coca Cola. Some woman gave me a look as if to say, "You've never been shopping in your life." And you've never stopped shopping, I see you here every week. Bitch.
Right. Now we get the problem of the TESCO shopping bags, which seem to be made out of incompetent clouds. As soon as I was away from the shop, they ripped. I can't go back now, but I do not know how to carry these items. Suddenly, I saw a familiar face. Now, I think I was obviously in need of help, so I thought this guy might help out a bit. Just carry one Coke bottle, that's all. I got fuck all. Go fuck yourself, mate. Get onto the bus in an awkward position that nearly breaks my wrist and actually makes my middle finger numb for a week. Didn't see the doctor, I'm far too arrogant for that.
Get home. Ow. Set the table and the chairs outside. New tablecloth. Freshly mowed lawn. Perfect.
It starts to rain. At a BBQ. I stand there for five minutes, contemplating life and my very existence. I was going to have a mental breakdown, but I'm far too arrogant for that.
PART 2 COMING SOON
Monday, 9 August 2010
03/08/10 - Obligatory Drinks
Another birthday. Another 18th birthday. Do people not realise that my stamina is limited without forcing myself to be fraternise with people that annoy me? Oh well. Moan over. Let's do some more moaning.
I genuinely thought that this would be fine. It was at a bar reasonably near me, so if it turned out to be drier than the Sahara (heard that metaphor before? Everyone has.), I could easily go home. The bar was also having a student night, so it wouldn't be that expensive. I could probably spend less than a tenner and it would be fine. Some people I hadn't talked to in a while, women people, would be there, so it had potential. However, newly born babies all have the potential to become the next fascist dictator that will shape their country for years to come, but most end up with Job Seekers' Allowance. See where I'm going with this?
Arrived there to find the birthday girl smoking with her sister. Her sister who is only 17 in an 18-and-over bar. My common sense started tingling, I said Happy Birthday and went in to see the rest of the crowd. Before the small talk, I went to the bar and ordered a typical teenager drink (it comes in a pint glass) and was charged over three pounds.
"Isn't it Student Night?"
"Yeah. Still the same prices though."
Oh fucking dear.
Small talk. Somebody was depressed, I found out the next day that she had broken up with ehr boyfriend. And I made jokes about him all night. Oh well. Wasn't a great friendship anyway. Our table was on the "dancefloor" so we had to move, while we eyed up a man who took up a booth all to himself. Why did we care? The booth could fit six at most and there were ten of us. I hang around with the biggest bunch of cretins sometimes. Eventually, people I knew from a few years back came in, people that actually have a decent social life. Made small talk with them for 20 minutes, didn't actually feel like small talk. I wish I was with them. They also brought some talent with them. Some talent. However, I knew I had no chance, so I didn't waste my time. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
Now, we get ludicrous. One of the friends invited was 17 and couldn't get in. So we all left.
"This place wasn't 'live' anyway!"
"It's 9:30..." You utter moron
So we went to a place that was supposed to be a club, how the 17-year-olds would get into the club, I do not know. Turned out to not be a club, but a shisha bar that had salsa lessons on the top floor. I nearly used "The Emergency Gun" to put myself out of this torment and misery. Then there was sitting on grass. I went to the off license and bought six bottles of beer, which I drank within 20 minutes. Help me. That is obviously a cry for help. Notice it and make this night ununbearable. Or just bearable.
At this point, we went back to the bar, which was now packed with people, told the 17s to fuck the hell off. And danced for half an hour, before I decided enough was enough. I need to survive this crap.
I left. I had chicken on the way home. Simple pleasures.
I genuinely thought that this would be fine. It was at a bar reasonably near me, so if it turned out to be drier than the Sahara (heard that metaphor before? Everyone has.), I could easily go home. The bar was also having a student night, so it wouldn't be that expensive. I could probably spend less than a tenner and it would be fine. Some people I hadn't talked to in a while, women people, would be there, so it had potential. However, newly born babies all have the potential to become the next fascist dictator that will shape their country for years to come, but most end up with Job Seekers' Allowance. See where I'm going with this?
Arrived there to find the birthday girl smoking with her sister. Her sister who is only 17 in an 18-and-over bar. My common sense started tingling, I said Happy Birthday and went in to see the rest of the crowd. Before the small talk, I went to the bar and ordered a typical teenager drink (it comes in a pint glass) and was charged over three pounds.
"Isn't it Student Night?"
"Yeah. Still the same prices though."
Oh fucking dear.
Small talk. Somebody was depressed, I found out the next day that she had broken up with ehr boyfriend. And I made jokes about him all night. Oh well. Wasn't a great friendship anyway. Our table was on the "dancefloor" so we had to move, while we eyed up a man who took up a booth all to himself. Why did we care? The booth could fit six at most and there were ten of us. I hang around with the biggest bunch of cretins sometimes. Eventually, people I knew from a few years back came in, people that actually have a decent social life. Made small talk with them for 20 minutes, didn't actually feel like small talk. I wish I was with them. They also brought some talent with them. Some talent. However, I knew I had no chance, so I didn't waste my time. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
Now, we get ludicrous. One of the friends invited was 17 and couldn't get in. So we all left.
"This place wasn't 'live' anyway!"
"It's 9:30..." You utter moron
So we went to a place that was supposed to be a club, how the 17-year-olds would get into the club, I do not know. Turned out to not be a club, but a shisha bar that had salsa lessons on the top floor. I nearly used "The Emergency Gun" to put myself out of this torment and misery. Then there was sitting on grass. I went to the off license and bought six bottles of beer, which I drank within 20 minutes. Help me. That is obviously a cry for help. Notice it and make this night ununbearable. Or just bearable.
At this point, we went back to the bar, which was now packed with people, told the 17s to fuck the hell off. And danced for half an hour, before I decided enough was enough. I need to survive this crap.
I left. I had chicken on the way home. Simple pleasures.
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