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Posts Tagged ‘booze booze and more booze’

  1. Sex and drugs and being called a faggot in the street

    February 8, 2010 by superlative

    I had a lovely weekend, involving two lots of clubbing and a yummy lunch out on Sunday. There was no sex, or drugs, I just said that to get your attention, but I did get called a faggot in the street. More on that later though.

    We thought we would give Don’t Stop Believin another try on Friday night, after last week’s enjoyable but rather under-populated launch night. Our friend Alice was quite keen to try it as the music they say they’ll play always sounds so good, so we thought it would be worth a go and hoped a few more people would be dancing this time. Unfortunately, there were actually even fewer people there this time than before, so it was a bit of a washout really.
    We still had a nice time, and we sat upstairs in the bar area to start with while we had a couple of drinks, but then as soon as you move downstairs to the club bit it just turns into a very chilly and very empty evening. The music was fine, quite good even, but when you’re the only three people dancing it just doesn’t feel all that much fun. So I think we lasted until about 1am this week, by which point we were fairly sure hoards of people weren’t going to arrive at any moment, so we called it a night. It’s a shame, as I said last week, because the club night is right up our street in terms of atmosphere and the playlist. I might not go again though, at least not until I see that it has got a bit busier.
    Then Saturday night was the FABULOUS Pop Kraft, which was much much busier, and was highly enjoyable. We had a few drinks at home, then waited for Alice to ditch her match.com date and come join us for our two-nights-in-a-row we’-re-still-young-aren’t-we trip to the Hanbury Ballroom. It was PACKED when we got there, which was a welcome contrast to the previous night. The music’s always really good there too, the Size Zero Albino and Boogaloo Stu both play really good stuff, and I think we’ve only ever had one night out at Pop Kraft that we haven’t really enjoyed.
    There was one slight wobble when the bar managed to enrage Chris so much I thought he was going to batter someone to death, by running out of change during the first hour. So after queuing up for 20 minutes to get served he was told he could only have drinks if he had the right money. “Do you take cards?”, he asked. “No,” said the unapologetic barman. There’s a card machine there behind the bar at the Hanbury of course, there always is, but for some idiotic reason it’s NEVER working. “So what do you want me to do?”, Chris enquired. “I don’t know,” said barman. What the fuck is that?? Do they not WANT to make any money? That was the fault of the Hanbury as a venue though, not the people who run Pop Kraft. If they had no change, they should either have given you the £12 round for £10, or found some way of giving you additional drinks until it made a round number. Tsk. So we only had one round of drinks there all night, which was fine for us because it made it fantastically cheap, but ridiculous for any club to operate like that. GET A FUCKING CARD MACHINE HANBURY BALLROOM (I’m assuming they’ll read this, everyone does don’t they?).
    Other than the No Drinks For You fiasco, we had a fab time. We acquired/stole some Glee facemasks of Sue Sylvester and Artie, which I’m sure will come in handy for… er… nothing, and we went fucking MENTAL when they played Don’t Stop Believing. As did the whole club actually, there was a bit of Glee fever going on in there that night. And we stayed until the end, which we don’t always do so I guess we must have been having a good time.
    The three of us wandered back home through Kemptown singing Don’t Stop Believing quietly (loudly) to ourselves, and it was at this point that a charming young man decided to say “Faggots” at us as he walked past with his friends. Due to a combination of booze and the fact we were at a good bit in the song (the bit that goes ‘Somewhere in the NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT’) I didn’t actually care that much at the time, but once I got home I was quite annoyed. It’s only happened to me a handful of times that I’ve been homophobically abused in the street (once on the Isle of Wight, and couple of times near the Level, which is apparently a hotspot for cockmunchers in white transits to drive past and shout “Poofs” at you), so I’ve been quite lucky really. I’ve never been attacked or anything, and I don’t actually care if someone calls me a faggot. I know what I am and I like what I am, so you’d have about as much chance of insulting me if you called me tall. It’s the fact that this person obviously thinks they’re better than you because they like to put their penis into vaginas, and because the only reason they’re saying it is to show off in front of their friends. No one ever shouts that sort of thing when they’re on their own, it’s like a stupid schoolboy thing they do to look cool.
    So that pissed me off a bit, because even in Brighton you apparently can’t escape from retarded idiocy. But it didn’t ruin my night, which was EXCELLENT.
    And then we had a lovely lunch in Gourmet Burger Kitchen on Sunday where I stuffed my fat face with a massive chicken, camembert and cranberry burger. It was gorgeous.
    All in all it was a lahvely weekend. We have such a nice life, I sometimes think, and I should be more grateful for it.

  2. Sun, vodka, boys and insects

    November 2, 2009 by superlative

    I had a lovely time in Gran Canaria, and the weather did indeed stay nice for us. It was closer to 80 degrees sometimes I think, so I was even grateful for the bit of cloud we had towards the end of the week.

    We were only there for five days, but to be honest that was quite enough for me. It’s a rare occasion now that I’d want to go out two nights in a row, so going out five nights in a row was quite a struggle for me. Thank goodness all I had to do in the daytime afterwards was lay on a plastic sun lounger in my skimpies for hours in end (see photo).
    For those of you who haven’t been to Gran Canaria before, it really is your basic sun and booze holiday. There’s not actually that much else to do there, although you can hire a car and go inland if you want to, which we’ve done in previous years. But all we did this time was get up late, sunbathe, go out for dinner at reasonably priced restaurants where you have to sit on patio furniture, drink vodka from the Spar, and then go out bar hopping around the Yumbo Centre. It was great. The only thing that could have been improved really was that there weren’t that many fit boys there this year. There were some, mostly fit waiters, but I think some people have been put off by how expensive the euro is right now. Plus of course it was half term, and what kind of fool goes on holiday in half term unless they have to? Such is my lot as the wife of a teacher.
    Oh yes, and the other thing that could have been improved was that they could have put a tent over the whole island and fumigated it before we arrived. I got SO many mosquito bites! I had about 20 in the end, and some of them have only just gone down. So with them, plus the cockroaches who occasionally scuttle across your bungalow floor, I’d had quite enough of insects by the time we left.
    Our accommodation was nice, we stayed at Club Mancha which is right by the Yumbo Centre where all the gay bars are. It’s a small complex of about 12 bungalows around a pool. The staff there were really friendly, and I couldn’t fault it really. I’d definitely go there again, but having been to Gran Canaria about four times now I think maybe we should try another destination next time we go away.
    I was exhausted by the time we got home from all the going out, so it is actually sort of nice to be back at work where I can sit down all day and drink tea. I’ve got a bit of tan but not loads as I didn’t want to burn, but at least it has given me a bit of colour for the winter. Chris, of course, has turned into a sub-saharan African again because he tans really quickly, so he’ll probably still be tanned long after mine has faded. It’s a shame I can’t really pull of Nicole Kidman-esque pale beauty, it would be so much easier for me! I just go pink in the sun. No danger of that though now that I’m back. Still, Christmas is just around the corner, so I shall look forward to that now instead.

  3. Over-eating, over-drinking, and simulating cage sex in a cowboy hat

    May 6, 2009 by superlative

    I had a very good birthday weekend in the end, and feel that my 28th birthday was adequately celebrated.

    A couple of our friends came down on Saturday to stay, and we had a nice meal out at Café Rouge. I don’t go there very often, but the food was very good and it was made all the sweeter by our triumphant production of money-off vouchers that knocked about 25% off the bill at the end. I always feel like you look a little bit cheap when you say you’ve got a voucher, but it’s unlikely we would have eaten there without them so they should be grateful damn it.

    Then we did a little bar hopping on Saturday night, just to a few places like Dr Brightons, the Bulldog, Vavoom and R-Bar. Oh and a new one as well, the Kings Arms, which is a new bear-type pub. R-Bar had their music up ridiculously loud, to the point where it actually hurt my ears, so they are in my bad books now because I just don’t see the need for it. You couldn’t talk to anyone, you had to just sit there and wait for your ears to bleed.

    On Sunday we wandered around the shops, Chris made us a yummy lasagne for dinner, and then we got all dressed up for the Wild Fruit Sex Saloon. We enjoy dressing up, it makes the night more fun, and when you’re in costume strangers seem to assume that you’re a confident and fun type of person so they talk to you more (regardless of whether you actually are confident or fun. I am neither).

    Wild Fruit was really good. It was very busy, as usual, and there are always lots of pretty boys there. The music in the pop room was really, really good, so we pretty much just danced in there all night. It’s always a bit quiet in the pop room, most people tend to stay in the dancy main room, but they do have an enjoyable cage type podium where you can practice your pole dancing and take stupid photos of yourself pretending to bum your friends or hanging upside. Chris does the hanging upside down rather than me, he’s considerably more athletic and I’m not prepared to risk a broken neck for a photo.

    We stayed until the end, and must have still been quite hyped up because we decided to go back to Vavoom for a bit afterwards just to make sure we really had drunk as much as we could. It was 5am and the sun was coming up by the time we went to bed, and I have to admit that seeing the sun come up before I’d been to sleep did make me feel slightly hysterical. It’s unlike me to be out that late without fainting, throwing up, or falling asleep in a corner. I bet it was part of some subconscious need to prove that “I’ve still got it” and can party until 5am despite being 28.

    Monday was, unsurprisingly, a little more subdued, and I had a slightly green tint to my not-so-youthful complexion until about 3 o’clock. We did manage another lunch out though (I must have consumed about 40,000 calories over the weekend) before our friends headed off home. They got caught in the stupid protester twattiness unfortunately (see previous post), but eventually made it out of the city after several diversions to avoid the imbeciles.

    So it was an excellent weekend all in all. I’m only just today getting over my tiredness, I don’t bounce back like I used to when I was 19, but I’ve had a quiet couple of days at work at least, and if you can’t wear yourself out celebrating your birthday then I don’t know when you can.


  4. Hangovers 3 – Healthy livers 0

    March 25, 2008 by superlative

    This Easter I seem to have chosen to eschew the traditional activity of eating chocolate eggs in favour of massive amounts of drinking, staying up until 4am, and then crawling around the next day going gaaarrrrr. It has been a very enjoyable, sociable weekend but I feel I need a bit of a detox to recover from it.

    On Thursday after work we went to the pub to see some of Chris’ teacher-type friends, had a couple of drinks, then went to another pub, and then went off to Dynamite Boogaloo. It was packed in there and very good fun. Chris snogged a kiwi girl, lucky her, and then we ran home in the pouring rain at 3am.

    Friday was a day of rest, and then on Saturday I spent hours and hours in Harlow sorting out Chris’ Dad’s new computer until I was thoroughly sick of it. We decided to go out ‘just for a couple’ in the evening as Marc was down from Birmingham, so we went out with him and a student friend of his called Jordan. Jordan, NOT Josh as I kept calling him all night until Chris pointed out that wasn’t his name, much to my embarrassment. Who the hell is called Jordan anyway? I can hardly be blamed. Nice boy though, but very easily led astray. He planned to go home quite early, but was quickly coaxed into a drink at the Bulldog, then the Star Inn, then Vavoom before he finally escaped our evil clutches outside V-2. Chris and I did the worst, WORST karaoke in V-2, to which there was much sniggering in the audience, and we didn’t seem to get to bed until about 4 again. Shame about the karaoke, I thought we could sing Total Eclipse of the Heart quite well. I’m going to blame booze-induced tone deafness and poor acoustics.

    The somehow on Sunday, despite only have had about 4 hours sleep, we managed to go to Wild Fruit. Oh my god I cannot believe how long I spent queuing there! Not to get in, oh no, that took about 30 seconds, but for the bloody cloak room. An HOUR we waited to put our coats in! A bloody hour! What the hell is that?? After that it was fine, very busy as it usually is, and we got lots of photos taken of us because of our general state of undress. We had gone as Las Vegas chippendales (yes I know I don’t have the physique for it), as it was a Las Vegas-themed evening, which basically involved wearing collar and cuffs and not much else. You get loads of pretty boys at Wild Fruit, ones you never see elsewhere, so that’s always fun. And then, unfortunately and unsurprisingly, we had to spend another 40 minutes to get our coats back. What a fucking joke! So the moral of the story is never, ever take a coat to Tru – just deal with the cold weather and catch pneumonia, the hospital treatment will take less time than queuing there.

    So that was my weekend. So drunk, so hungover, so tired, but much fun. Work today seems like a peaceful holiday in comparison. 

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