So this weekend was built as the conclusion to a week, that in my opinion, I would have prefered not to happen.
I went to work as per usual upon a saturday night. I work in place that caters for metal heads and goths on a friday and [welsh] stag and hen nights on a saturday. I am forever mopping up unhealthy coloured spillages and witnessing the behaviours of Brides-that-should-never-be
A long shift later... I embarked on a mission for cheap boose and frolics, I found myself at a goth Industrial night though to my horror they had sold out of the £1 beers. Soon after I went to a secret party thing in a yoga studio, usually these urban soirees are full of vegans and white cider drinkers fortunately however, the scene on this ocasion was more agreeable with my interests. I did infact see a vegan, whom made a comment about my fur stole but ran off before I could launch it at her.
Amy, the person that recently took over Pat's position and dare I say it, responsibly of being my new BFF decided to die this weekend. Which, understandably, was really annoying as I assumed she was going to be at the yoga hall party and she wasn't which, just like L'oreal, gave my reputation of having no friends even more life and body.
After the music had stopped I had failed to realise that none of the 6 people I had been texting or calling all evenin had responded, which put me in a precarious situation as I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do. A mutual friend of Amy and mine 'invited' me to an after party around the corner. I investigated, mingled, worked to the room only to be chucked out by someone half my size, little did he know, after parties sponsored by ketamin never really were my thing.
After being ejected from the place of tranquilized fun and intrigue, in the lobby I remained in hope a plan manifested in the part of my brain that was still functioning adriotly.. It was too cold so fuck sleeping rough again, besides.. who sleeps?, I could have danced all night. Embarking on the mission that is treking it home was a notion I was not willing to entertain as I was wearing my nice shoes.
As luck would have it, a guest of the party emerged, he pondered why I was sitting in a corner next to a broken dishwasher, I explained the situation in great detail, hi-lighting how difficult it is going out when one has no friends and only a home in the next county . He took pity on me as he told me I reminded him of his dad and did what no one ever does, offered me somewhere to stay. Lad.
It was fortunate as he lived in close proximately to Ben whom I had arranged to take out for a roast on sunday thus the geographically, it made perfect sense.
On sunday, Ben J and I went to my friend Ben's new bar called The old bookshop. I never really write about Ben G as it is a great fear of mine that anything I would write would have the potential to insure he never gets laid again.
A full gut later, Theo and I went to watch the Pole dancing championships. It wasn't what we had expected or hoped for. We were expecting a bunch of girls whipping their hair back and fourth and grinding against a pole to 50-cent-candy shop
instead, the atmosphere was funeral like. Most of the audience were the contestants parents and grandparents and the contestants's song choices ranged from deep emotional power ballards to soundtracks from horror films.
O how I miss Downton Abbey.
There was one male contestant whom, despite the sheer lack of support engineered in his undergarments, proved to be one of the best. His 'Smack my bitch up' routine tested Theo's character.
we didn't stay for the results.
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