You may recall that I'm part of the Aberdeen University Comedy Society. Unfortunately for my immense talent, their gigs are infrequent and sparse. Therefore, I have decided to branch out and explore gig as part of the comedy circuit. Now, in Aberdeen, everything is micro sized. And example of how this affects comedy is simple...I have been in two gigs and comedians I met, I met again. Extras were repeated. And one of them is from Montrose, that is not Aberdeen.
Let's begin.
Aberdeen only has one regular comedy night, that's weekly. Frankly, pathetic. There are gigs here and there and professionals come here on occasion, the ones on Mock the Week and that, but for newcomers, it's a tough place to get a gig, especially with many comedians and sketch troupes coming up from Glasgow or Edinburgh. Some even come down from Inverness. So spots are packed tighter than something crude about an arsehole.
Anyway, I managed to scour the internet and get a few gigs with Aberdeen comics, most of whom are alchoholics. Honestly, the fact that they managed to say anything at all, never mind get a laugh, which they didn't, is close to defying all expectations of drunk behaviour. The first was at a place called Cellar 35, which gave me free bar as I was performing, therefore I was well and truly blotto'ed by the time I got onto stage, which gave me an extra verve of confidence, a good help. And then I had about four more pints. Dayumm.
Next gig was the RGU Union for some charity. Those gigs are usually a bust or whatever. MC was a drunk that made obvious connections:
"So what do you do?"
Media Studies
"Oh, issat something to do with the media?"
Idiot.
At that gig, I was thrown off guard several times and it was probably the worst of my performances. I was introduced with the wrong name and the audience was told that I was from Aberdeen University. Hostile reception guaranteed. Jokes got "ughh" instead of laughs. Fuck.
Tomorrow, I have a gig at the sole comedy club in Aberdeen. Wish me luck.
This was an extremely short blog that took hours to write. My life seems to be getting dull.
Monday 21 February 2011
Saturday 12 February 2011
This Clubbing Night
Clubbing is a regular part of my schedule. It happens three, maybe four times, a week. Eventually, I will examine the intricacies of clubbing life, but just for this one post, I will look at the night which only finished an hour ago upon time of writing. Topical. The most topical this blog has ever been. Gosh.
And it's more than one post within a week. Damn.
Flat parties usually start off a night, before moving onto the pub and a club. That is the usual regime, unless the party gets so hectic that everyone just stays there. Those are fun on occasion, except this wasn't one of those occasions. I met a couple of friends and headed over to this party at about 9 o'Clock. I brought my half bottle of rum, hoping that it would get me through the night if I drank it all pretty quickly. I had one sip and felt ill. The last night had made me incredibly ill and my stomach lining may have dissolved. Oh dear.
I left the party to get some food as that usually helps. One of my friends comes with me, making the other friend jealous as it seems that he always chooses me over him. This is obviously untrue, but we are always drunk, so nothing with any sense happens. It just blurs into madness. We wouldn't have it any other way. Kebab meat and chips. Even worse than death. I may actually become a vegetarian, or the one where you have fish as well. It's to help me lose weight and actually become healthy in a very general and loose sense. That would be nice. One can dream, eh?
Got back to the party eventually and ate the food there, like a complete social retard. I could feel what little reputation I had simply slipping away like uncooked chicken held by a spastic. That's not politically correct, but I'm drunk. As if that's an excuse. However, I felt better and started drinking vodka and whatever else. All this after my blog post telling people not to drink. Pathetic. While all this is happening, my friend talks to someone that I may like too much, which make me hate him. I actually hate him whenever it seems people that I introduced him to, like him more than they like me. This is incredibly petty and desperate, but I cannot help it. I'll figure out what's wrong with me later. I should stop talking about other people on this bog, it's unfair. They do not give consent after all, many don't know that I actually write this blog.
Right, after some "banter" at the party or whatever, we all took taxis to the club, missing out the pub. Scandal. And we had some delay after we had a free space that we needed to fill in the taxi, but nobody would get in, which led to shouting and fucking retardation. Sometimes, I hate the human race. Common sense eludes them, or perhaps seeing as I'm the only one that thinks this, common sense eludes me. Debate for another day. Maybe tomorrow, got nothing else to do, apart from read Paradise Lost.
Club. Entry. Skanking. A lot of people weren't up for dancing after about an hour, which was annoying. Somebody joined the queue, went to get money, but just went home. There was other stuff, but I've lost enthusiasm. However, two building mates got off with each other, which was like "Woah!". Except, the girl immediately went after someone else, which seems a bit whorish and a bit deamenaing to the guy. Perhaps. On the other hand, it was a drunk, club getting off, which hardly means anything. Yet, I walked the guy home, as he was off his face and everyone else got a taxi whilst he was walking someone home. I joined them in a goodwill act to make sure he didn't smack his head off of the pavement, which would be a royal pain as he's a decent chap. Or whatever. No homo, because that is a major statement.
Got back to the building, saw people there that needed a key that we had. Kicked a vending machine. Went home. And that's that.
For some reason, I'm angry. More on this when I sober up. Don't know why, but it's annoying me ever so much. Peace out.
And it's more than one post within a week. Damn.
Flat parties usually start off a night, before moving onto the pub and a club. That is the usual regime, unless the party gets so hectic that everyone just stays there. Those are fun on occasion, except this wasn't one of those occasions. I met a couple of friends and headed over to this party at about 9 o'Clock. I brought my half bottle of rum, hoping that it would get me through the night if I drank it all pretty quickly. I had one sip and felt ill. The last night had made me incredibly ill and my stomach lining may have dissolved. Oh dear.
I left the party to get some food as that usually helps. One of my friends comes with me, making the other friend jealous as it seems that he always chooses me over him. This is obviously untrue, but we are always drunk, so nothing with any sense happens. It just blurs into madness. We wouldn't have it any other way. Kebab meat and chips. Even worse than death. I may actually become a vegetarian, or the one where you have fish as well. It's to help me lose weight and actually become healthy in a very general and loose sense. That would be nice. One can dream, eh?
Got back to the party eventually and ate the food there, like a complete social retard. I could feel what little reputation I had simply slipping away like uncooked chicken held by a spastic. That's not politically correct, but I'm drunk. As if that's an excuse. However, I felt better and started drinking vodka and whatever else. All this after my blog post telling people not to drink. Pathetic. While all this is happening, my friend talks to someone that I may like too much, which make me hate him. I actually hate him whenever it seems people that I introduced him to, like him more than they like me. This is incredibly petty and desperate, but I cannot help it. I'll figure out what's wrong with me later. I should stop talking about other people on this bog, it's unfair. They do not give consent after all, many don't know that I actually write this blog.
Right, after some "banter" at the party or whatever, we all took taxis to the club, missing out the pub. Scandal. And we had some delay after we had a free space that we needed to fill in the taxi, but nobody would get in, which led to shouting and fucking retardation. Sometimes, I hate the human race. Common sense eludes them, or perhaps seeing as I'm the only one that thinks this, common sense eludes me. Debate for another day. Maybe tomorrow, got nothing else to do, apart from read Paradise Lost.
Club. Entry. Skanking. A lot of people weren't up for dancing after about an hour, which was annoying. Somebody joined the queue, went to get money, but just went home. There was other stuff, but I've lost enthusiasm. However, two building mates got off with each other, which was like "Woah!". Except, the girl immediately went after someone else, which seems a bit whorish and a bit deamenaing to the guy. Perhaps. On the other hand, it was a drunk, club getting off, which hardly means anything. Yet, I walked the guy home, as he was off his face and everyone else got a taxi whilst he was walking someone home. I joined them in a goodwill act to make sure he didn't smack his head off of the pavement, which would be a royal pain as he's a decent chap. Or whatever. No homo, because that is a major statement.
Got back to the building, saw people there that needed a key that we had. Kicked a vending machine. Went home. And that's that.
For some reason, I'm angry. More on this when I sober up. Don't know why, but it's annoying me ever so much. Peace out.
Thursday 10 February 2011
Alcoholism (or otherwise)
A common interpretation of university life is that it's a great "booze up". Or whatever. Now, let's get this straight: In Freshers' Week, your liver will be about half the size it was before Freshers'. I'm not a doctor, so I do not know if that's true or if it is even a bad thing. If you had a smaller liver, you would need less food? Therefore, saving money? Yeah?
Now, I have a close, intimate relationship with alcohol. Me and it are amazing fuck buddys, one whom I tend to see every day, apart from Sundays and Thursdays. Sometimes on Sunday. Whatever. I am talking about this as I have had a breakthrough. Alcohol, in excess, isn't that great. I had no idea. There should be some sort of advert telling everyone about this, except without that RoboCop guy that just makes me think about RoboCop. So I drink to forget about RoboCop.
There are several side-effects to consuming alcohol:
NUMBER ONE: LOSS OF SPEECH CENSORSHIP
Loss of censoring your speech leads to general embarrassment/harassment. Here are a few examples of what can be said when intoxicated (all true and from me):
I fell up some club stairs and then tripped on a toga. Danced like an epileptic at a rave next to a dying sun on speed. Yeah. Tripping over an open door. Tripping over a closed door. The loss of all control is a very scary thought, this also applies to the speech point. Everything that was once your kingdom is now sort fo equal and has a fair share in what happens in your movement. And you get kicked out of clubs.
NUMBER THREE: LOSS OF THE ABILITY TO EJACULATE
Self-explanatory.
NUMBER FOUR: LOSS OF HYDRATION
"More water, please! Or vodka..."
It leads to ill health the next day. Absolutely awful. Also leads to:
NUMBER FIVE: CHUNDER
Self-explanatory
NUMBER SIX: GENERAL DICKISHNESS
Story time, ladies and gentlemen, of last Friday night. At a flat pre-drinking before some school fancy dress night. I managed to wolf down three cans of Strongbow and a mate had one, because he's a git who didn't bring any. By then, I was pretty tipsy. Despite being made out of the souls of undead orphans and piss, Strongbow does the job. I managed to make a few sexist remarks on the cusp and talk about how fat I am. General dickishness.
Then, it was off to the pub, where pitchers of Strongbow were only six quid. Bang. In there. Drank that and made myself drunker. Attempted to play pool and lost, but not by a large margin, there was some damage limitation. 15-Love, life. Shots. Call a taxi and ignore the girl I've slept with. Even though she's a bitch and wants us to be together forever and keeps spreading the fact that we slept together. Whatever. Slapped a girl's arse. I didn't know her name, turns out I did. General dickishness.
Got a taxi with Mr Taxi Driver. Yeah, him. £2 each. Bargain, yet I argued until I was dragged out of the taxi. Wahoo. Queued up in the line and asked the bouncer whether there was a union and if I could be initiated. Nearly ended with none of us getting into the club. And I tripped up the steps. General dickishness.
Free entry, therefore...vodka. And alcopops. That's the only thing they sell in clubs. We see a girl who's birthday it is and the rest of her party. The party we decided not to go to.
"It's her, man."
"Oh yeah...let's go say hi!"
General dickishness.
So on and so forth. Got a picture taken and the woman said she was moving onto a different club, so I called her a camera slut. G.D.
CONCLUSION
All of these things involve losing something. Be careful when out with your friends and drinking, I say this to my one follower (official follower anyway). Stay safe, now you know.
Do not drink. Unless it's a Sunday.
Now, I have a close, intimate relationship with alcohol. Me and it are amazing fuck buddys, one whom I tend to see every day, apart from Sundays and Thursdays. Sometimes on Sunday. Whatever. I am talking about this as I have had a breakthrough. Alcohol, in excess, isn't that great. I had no idea. There should be some sort of advert telling everyone about this, except without that RoboCop guy that just makes me think about RoboCop. So I drink to forget about RoboCop.
There are several side-effects to consuming alcohol:
NUMBER ONE: LOSS OF SPEECH CENSORSHIP
Loss of censoring your speech leads to general embarrassment/harassment. Here are a few examples of what can be said when intoxicated (all true and from me):
- This club is as empty as a Muslim's vagina!
- Hello, Mr Taxi Driver! Now, Mr Taxi Driver take me to this club! Have you got a card? No? Disappointing, Mr Taxi Driver!
- I hope your vagina is as small as your tits.
- Maybe I'll regenerate, like Buddhists or those ones with the orange Voldemort cloaks.
- Is your boyfriend bigger than me? Like, yno, BIGGER?
- My friend is in the IRA or Real Madrid. One or the other.
- I have met Mr Blobby, he touched me and then bought me a kebab.
- What is the strongest alcohol you have here? I'll take that, Mr McIntyre! See you on the Roadshow!
- Are we human or are we wankers?!
I fell up some club stairs and then tripped on a toga. Danced like an epileptic at a rave next to a dying sun on speed. Yeah. Tripping over an open door. Tripping over a closed door. The loss of all control is a very scary thought, this also applies to the speech point. Everything that was once your kingdom is now sort fo equal and has a fair share in what happens in your movement. And you get kicked out of clubs.
NUMBER THREE: LOSS OF THE ABILITY TO EJACULATE
Self-explanatory.
NUMBER FOUR: LOSS OF HYDRATION
"More water, please! Or vodka..."
It leads to ill health the next day. Absolutely awful. Also leads to:
NUMBER FIVE: CHUNDER
Self-explanatory
NUMBER SIX: GENERAL DICKISHNESS
Story time, ladies and gentlemen, of last Friday night. At a flat pre-drinking before some school fancy dress night. I managed to wolf down three cans of Strongbow and a mate had one, because he's a git who didn't bring any. By then, I was pretty tipsy. Despite being made out of the souls of undead orphans and piss, Strongbow does the job. I managed to make a few sexist remarks on the cusp and talk about how fat I am. General dickishness.
Then, it was off to the pub, where pitchers of Strongbow were only six quid. Bang. In there. Drank that and made myself drunker. Attempted to play pool and lost, but not by a large margin, there was some damage limitation. 15-Love, life. Shots. Call a taxi and ignore the girl I've slept with. Even though she's a bitch and wants us to be together forever and keeps spreading the fact that we slept together. Whatever. Slapped a girl's arse. I didn't know her name, turns out I did. General dickishness.
Got a taxi with Mr Taxi Driver. Yeah, him. £2 each. Bargain, yet I argued until I was dragged out of the taxi. Wahoo. Queued up in the line and asked the bouncer whether there was a union and if I could be initiated. Nearly ended with none of us getting into the club. And I tripped up the steps. General dickishness.
Free entry, therefore...vodka. And alcopops. That's the only thing they sell in clubs. We see a girl who's birthday it is and the rest of her party. The party we decided not to go to.
"It's her, man."
"Oh yeah...let's go say hi!"
General dickishness.
So on and so forth. Got a picture taken and the woman said she was moving onto a different club, so I called her a camera slut. G.D.
CONCLUSION
All of these things involve losing something. Be careful when out with your friends and drinking, I say this to my one follower (official follower anyway). Stay safe, now you know.
Do not drink. Unless it's a Sunday.
Thursday 3 February 2011
Resuming University Education
Let's catch you up to speed. If that's a phrase.
There were exams, one on World Literature and English. The World Literature exam forced me to talk about disasters such as Hiroshima and 9/11 (the 9th of November obviously). The word "blag" pretty much sums up my exam, if "blag" was a word of course, though considering how liberal the dictionary is now, it may well be one. The second exam was on Shakespeare and I brought the Complete Works of Shakespeare with me. Seems like a smart idea, except I forgot a play by Ben Jonson which was studied alongside. A play I actually knew fairly well and fit into most of the questions. I didn't bring it. It caused a minor heart attack when I saw everyone bring two books out of their respective rucksacks instead of one. Also, the Coca Cola I had kept causing innappropriate burping during the exam. My social awkwarness is of my own making. Sad face.
Now, let's get onto the start of university and ReFreshers's Week. These weeks happen to coincide, which means I'd rather not get left behind than go to crappy events with higher prices. The events scattered around the week are the same events that are usually on in Aberdeen anyway, except with double the queue and drinks cost that little bit more. Just to rub the dead souls of orphans into the wound. Wow, my mind is warped.
There is also the matter of the ReFreshers' Fayre. We're a red brick university so we spell everything as if we're bastards, you see. I was there representing the Comedy Society, fully readyu to brag about my gig that I did without them. I never got around to it, as it's actually a fully arrogant thing to do. Plus, it entertains absolutely nobody. The main attraction was us sitting there, occasionally blurting "We're funny, dammit!" to passers-by. Awkward. However, we did get a few people to sign up and come along to the meetings. More than the fucking Amnesty Society anyway. Fuck them and their human rights.
Oh yeah, I missed the first lecture of the semester again. Not usually a problem, except I only have one lecture a week on that subject, so I'm one 12th of the course behind already. That could actually make a percentage, not that I'll bother. If somebody's moaning because I do not know it off by heart, go away. Bad vibes. Not today.
Oh yeah, people are pulling all around me. I may have to become an idiot and start.
I love being on a pedastal of my own creation. Peace out.
There were exams, one on World Literature and English. The World Literature exam forced me to talk about disasters such as Hiroshima and 9/11 (the 9th of November obviously). The word "blag" pretty much sums up my exam, if "blag" was a word of course, though considering how liberal the dictionary is now, it may well be one. The second exam was on Shakespeare and I brought the Complete Works of Shakespeare with me. Seems like a smart idea, except I forgot a play by Ben Jonson which was studied alongside. A play I actually knew fairly well and fit into most of the questions. I didn't bring it. It caused a minor heart attack when I saw everyone bring two books out of their respective rucksacks instead of one. Also, the Coca Cola I had kept causing innappropriate burping during the exam. My social awkwarness is of my own making. Sad face.
Now, let's get onto the start of university and ReFreshers's Week. These weeks happen to coincide, which means I'd rather not get left behind than go to crappy events with higher prices. The events scattered around the week are the same events that are usually on in Aberdeen anyway, except with double the queue and drinks cost that little bit more. Just to rub the dead souls of orphans into the wound. Wow, my mind is warped.
There is also the matter of the ReFreshers' Fayre. We're a red brick university so we spell everything as if we're bastards, you see. I was there representing the Comedy Society, fully readyu to brag about my gig that I did without them. I never got around to it, as it's actually a fully arrogant thing to do. Plus, it entertains absolutely nobody. The main attraction was us sitting there, occasionally blurting "We're funny, dammit!" to passers-by. Awkward. However, we did get a few people to sign up and come along to the meetings. More than the fucking Amnesty Society anyway. Fuck them and their human rights.
Oh yeah, I missed the first lecture of the semester again. Not usually a problem, except I only have one lecture a week on that subject, so I'm one 12th of the course behind already. That could actually make a percentage, not that I'll bother. If somebody's moaning because I do not know it off by heart, go away. Bad vibes. Not today.
Oh yeah, people are pulling all around me. I may have to become an idiot and start.
I love being on a pedastal of my own creation. Peace out.
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