OMG

The other night, it was arranged by my work friends and I that we would go to a new club called OMG.

Usually I wouldn't be caught alive or dead in a fag joint as a result of my irrational fear of Lesbians but any club names after such a camp acronym as OMG had to be tried.

The night started slowly on behalf of the buses inability to function in cold weather thus we hadn't left Patrick's (whom is now refered to as M-pat but for legal reasons I won't disclose why) until half 11.

This particluar fag joint boasts all the usuals one would expect to find; 5am closing, unisex toilets, smoke machines as well as plenty of mirrors coated in condensed god-knows-what. However, it manages to forget to mention or point out possibly the only interesting thing about this place.

Throughout the club you will find an array of Edwardian paneling and period detailing. The entire building, including the club above were built and furnished with fixtures and fittings from the RMS Mauretania which was the largest and fastest ship in 1906 but she didn't sink and kill Leonardo Dicaprio so what evs

By 2am, M-pat, Tom and I began to peak. M-pat had already managed to get with some random Lesbian who had just been dumped by her 'significant' other or something. M-pat wasn't giving in to the suppressed feelings in his butt and continued to woo the sparse selection of Fag hags. None of which he successfully got which but hey, he got with a Lesbian, so that's surely a hard graft at the best of times.

By 3am we were bored and all remotely desirable slices of any kind had left, only dregs remained, none of which scored higher than a 4.

On the walk back, M-pat persisted to write immature words in the snow on car bonnets.

Tom disappeared yet no one cared to notice. Newly found Charlie was looking on us with great despair and dismay as we acted and behaved like a group of wreck heads in the bus station. Charlie is one of my new favourites. I gave him a Mink ass. He wore it out and got chased by a gang of vegans into a bank. I was furious to hear news of this for its comes as a great injustice that I have never been chased by vegans.

Charlie was off to see his hot Canada slice in Montreal. He says she's fit, we hope she is.

M-pat began to mistake German Shepherds for Wolves and Tom was still no place to be found. It turns out Tom ran off to collect a Slice. The slice was ok I suppose, He was cooler than Dubstep, but then again who and what isn't.

Patrick and I spent the rest of the night trying to fall sleep to the sound of Tom and his slice at it on the blow up bed.