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.
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