If you have not already realised this; I am completely and utterly insane.
So bear with me ...
Let's start with Friday night.
As usual on a Friday night, I had work til 9. And my housemate R came to pick me up with our friend Mickey (he is a little bit in love with her; yet will happily substitute her for groping me when she's not around... a behavhiour I DO NOT encourage); after work. I ended up finishing at 10 (crazy night at work + overly keen supervisor who still asks me how to run the place = late finish)... YET... being the lovely person I am I decided to still go out and have a drink with them.
"Just one," I thought to myself.
So we went to a club and waited in the line.
Mickey told us that his friend worked there and would get us in.
Fifteen minutes we were still standing out in the fucking cold; and then his friend (Sour Fruit) rang us and said that him and another of Mickeys friends (we shall call him The Short One) were on their way to another club.
So after about a second of considering just staying in the unmoving line we decided to trek on and go somewhere else.
"Just one drink, then I'll go home," I thought to myself again.
Half an hour later we were sitting in the upstairs of the club; knocking back our drinks with a little too much enjoyment.
I was pretty keen to dance a little and go home; so I could rest up and be beautiful for work the next day.
Then... R, Mickey AND The Short One all decided to bail. So I was left there with an increasingly drunk Sour Fruit.
"Fuck it," I said to myself, "I can just ditch him in a bit and get a cab home."
So we decided to go to my favourite club ever; the gay club (which will henceforth be known as Square).
And so we wandered a couple of blocks to Square; got drinks and took to the poles.
Approximately five seconds after we'd got to the dancefloor - the cops came in.
And shut down the club.
Needless to say I was SHITTING myself.
Not only was I totally underage.
I was with a guy I barely new (albeit a nice one); who was taller than everyone else by about a head, shirtless and quite loudly drunk.
Good.
After being drug-sniffed (by dogs... not the cops... sadly, as I quite like a sexy man in uniform) and videod half an hour later we were are allowed to leave.
At this stage it was about 2am.
"I'll go home soon..." I said to myself.
Then we went to some more clubs. And being a bartender, Sour Fruit knew EVERYONE in the existence of everwhere. Which basically just means free drinks. So basically - half my conversations went from well meaning brush offs ...
ME : I'm having so much fun, but I should really go; I have work in the morning...
to this...
SOUR FRUIT : Aww but I just got us more drinks...
ME : Okay... I guess... But after these ones I better go...
Also included in my night was almost getting thrown up on by a hundred drunk chicks dressed up in the most hideous tie-dyed outfits ever (I maintain it was the sight of eachothers clothes and not alcohol that made them need to vom...), getting told to 'be careful of Sour Fruit' by a girl dressed up as a cat (including ears, tail and nose) and Sour Fruit himself dragging me into a bus stop on our way past the interchange and lecturing me on the topic of true love and that it exists etc, for half-a-freaking-hour!
So one club led to another and I ended up getting home at 5:30.
All in all I got almost an hour and a half of beautiful luxurious sleep.
And let me tell you... and hour and a half of sleep is not nearly enough for someone to work an entire shift on.
Not even CLOSE!
Another beautiful thing about my car... in this weather... apart from my starter motor going at the same time as my clutch and the cold weather not helping either... MY HEATING IS FUCKED >:( >:( >:(
This means that I cannot heat myself up, nor can I defogify my windscreen. HELLO! driving along in the cold, wet and rain with my windows down and windscreen wipers flat-chat so I can attempt to see out the front. Just forget about seeing through my rear windscreen... or the side windows for that matter.
Seeing as it is so cold, and my heating is so... well... nonexistant... I have resorted to an awful, awful means of keeping warm.
Ladies and gents, I must from now on; drive whilst in my sleeping bag.
It actually works suprisingly well.
I just unzip the bottom so I can actually press down my barely there clutch and brakes and touchy-as-fuck accelorator, and hey presto, instant warmth.
However, I'm pretty sure that driving around in the stylish purpley-blue sack of warmth has seriously damaged my street cred (ha ha ha...)... That is to say that I'm fairly certain a large percentage of the people who see me in or around my car assume that I
a) live in it
b) am a total bum
c) a crack whore
and probably d) can't even afford a sleeping bag that zips up at the bottom...
Well... desperate times DO lead to desperate measures...
On a slightly more positive note... I am FUCKING KEEN FOR FRIDAY NIGHT. I am not (for once) going out clubbing.I am in fact going to a friend's joint 18th (which is about 6 months overdue and should therefore be about 6 times more awesome than it would usually be... and if you know my friends that means PRETTY FUCKING AWESOME!).
I have spent the last 3 hours of my life starting to prepare the venue (one of the boys just sold their house, which the builder is knocking down; and they still have the key... did anyone say DEMOLITION PARTY!?!?!). Which basically involved cooking frozen pizza and eating icecream out of the tub whilst watching a whole lot of my friends put up plastic and newspaper all over the walls. This has the dual effect of both protecting the walls from any vomit/alcohol/other stains AND making the house look totally fucking awesome. Almost like a Haunted House Ride. But with less ghosts and more loud music and drunk people.
If it's not fucking amazing I will eat some of the 3 month old Butter Chicken sitting in my freezer.
And no one wants that... do they?
Ciao ciao Amigos.
I'll fill you in on every atrocity this event has to offer...
If... you're lucky ;)
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