End of.
Drinking commenced at 5pm on Friday. I started strong and was getting through them quickly, and was soon on my way to becoming the biggest disgrace I had been in a long time. Happy days. Starting on double Malibu and coke’s, I moved to red wine and coke for the meal, had a few shots throughout the night, and I finished on vodka. (The ‘Company Credit Card’ paid for the majority of the drinks so I had a race against myself to see who could drink the most).
It was actually really nice getting to know the girls from the office – and by getting to know I mean drinking copious amounts of alcohol with a talking shit to each other about work and men… I kept my distance from GL for most of the evening, I had already said to myself that it wasn’t my aim to follow him around all night, and in hindsight I’m so glad I didn’t. His time was mainly consumed with buying shit-loads of champagne for some random girl from accounts, and going off to the toilet every 5 minutes to do Coke. I had a few interactions with him throughout the night. The first was when I took a cigarette out of his pocket without asking (because I had run out). He didn’t seem to mind me furtiling around in his front pocket too much to be fair… A while later he asked if me and him could go for a chat, I said “What? Now?” as I had just got myself a drink. He turned around and looked at the accounts bird, then looked back at me, “Give me half an hour?” I walked off… Then an hour or so after that he came upto me and asked if I was “ready for off then”. I told him that I hadn’t spoken to him all night – so no. The accounts girl knocked him back that night too, so he went off to Manchester on his own at about 2am to wank himself to sleep no doubt, or pay someone else to do it for him.
As my night became blurrier and we moved from place to place, I tried to shimmy up a lamp-post, did the splits on top of an umbrella which was in the middle of the dance floor in Barracuda (don’t ask), took photos of one of my work colleague pretending to bumfuck another colleague who was being sick by a pillar outside The Bar, and had several in depth chats with my boss – some of which I can never repeat again, and which has made the office uber-weird to work in now… I met a girl called Jen who was mates with one of the girls from work. She loved dancing with a dirty face on all the time and loved swooshing her dress up and showing her arse every time she span around. I knew who my dancing partner was instantly! At least two hours of my evening were consumed with having filth off’s with her on the dance floor, and with us escorting each other to the toilets so we could snort her Coke using my house key. What is it they say?… If you can’t beat them, join them. Well, I joined.
In a blurry haze I wandered outside and scabbed a fag off a lovely looking boy called Benjamin. He was off to Brazil the next morning to travel for a year – haha. Would you believe it?? Another one!… Don’t even get me bloody started. I gave him a little smooch as a thank you for the cig, arranged to meet him in J2 later, and stumbled back in side the bar. I didn’t meet him… When you have to have a word with yourself in a toilet cubicle, you know you’ve had more than enough. I got a taxi home, and am very proud to say that it was the only thing I paid for that night.
Obviously not feeling as if I had completely embarrassed myself, I text Corbett and asked if I could stop at his. I’d been texting him throughout the night anyway, with him telling me to “Stay away from the sleaze”, and I wasn’t meant to be stopping at home that night, so it seemed like a brilliant idea… He didn’t reply. With my plans of drunken harassment foiled, I went home, got undressed and got into bed only to receive a phone call off Corbett telling me he’d only just got my messages and that I could go to his if I wanted to. After quickly considering turning up to his in nothing but a flasher mac and some stockings and heels, I quickly decided it was not the best idea. We chatted for an hour about our nights (which I don’t really remember at all), and I’m pretty sure I fell asleep while he was talking to me at some point too.
The next morning, I had to get booked in to see the doctor because my throat felt like it was closing up completely. I just thought I was coming down and had a hangover… Apparently I have a “quite severe” throat and ear infection, and am currently on high dosage anti-biotics for the week. Hahaha. Love it.
Socialites?
As a spur of the moment idea, me and the wife decided to get ourselves all dressed up and go out into Manchester for the night. My network of flirt buddies had let me down, and as a refreshing change, plans were arranged through Emma’s network of lustiness.
No matter how much I do love going out in Burnley (God – that sounds quite sad saying it outloud – haha), it is what I like to think of as a safe-hold for me and the wife. It’s cheap and it’s close to home, but the same people go, we all drink the same drinks, and we all do the same things week in, week out. I think every now and again you need to pull yourself out of your safe routine and do something a little bit bigger and better.
Last night we met up with Steve, a friend of Emma’s sisters boyfriend(!), in the Living Room. His mates were all hot, and the girl out with them, Chrissie, was a lovely blogger/socalite from LA/Yorkshire. Big fake hair, nails, tits and tan; I loved her instantly. Shockingly, this group weren’t like the frequenters of Lava-Ignite, Burnley, and I think that’s what I liked about them the most.
A job as a socialite? How much fun would that actually be? A person who makes their living going out to fancy places with fancy people, entertaining and being entertained all the time? Fuck it… I would love that. I would buy myself some massive new boobs and get some botox in the ‘perma-scar’ frown line i seem to have adopted from my ‘hard hard life’… Yes. I think I could cope with that sort of thing.
What a shame I’m far too content with my ‘simple’ Lancashire life! Xx
