Tag Archives: going out

Surprise, surprise

As usual, my inability to organise anything or sort myself out in any meaningful way has ended with me landing nicely on my feet. For all the complaints I make about life, liberty and fruit of the loom being shit, I am often on the receiving end of lucky breaks. Not all the time – it’s not like things are anything like perfect – but it does seem that a noticeable amount of times I don’t bother trying and things sort themselves out nicely for me.

See, I’d all but given up yesterday – people were suffering from the night before, fair enough blah-de-blah. So I’d resigned myself to sitting in my pants, eating Chinese food and watching both Clerks films. I was about 20 minutes into the original and half a plate into my banquet when I received a phonecall, indicating young Benjamin and his ladyfriend Hayley had made their way to Bournemouth without announcing they were coming.

It’s called a ‘surprise’, apparently.

Anyway, a bit of confusion, some quick getting dressed and rushing out to meet them was followed up by a night that – while not hitting the heights of pier-jumping for stand-out moments – was a considerable pleasant experience from start to late, late finish. Apart from the part where I agreed to sleep on my own bloody sofa.

Sitting in a booth and judging everyone in the pub quite openly, receiving free wine, helping people through their debilitating shin-related diseases, taking someone to their first ever rock club, JAEGER BOMBS, dancing like a twat, marvelling at one very good fancy dress costume, watching girls practice their pole dancing (purely for scientifical reasons, natch), something in iBar, Karaoke, being the DJs best friend and not really knowing why (he specifically requested Ben and I sing the closing song of the night), something else at iBar, back for remaining Chinese.

Good night. And on that bombshell, I’m knackered. Good night.

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Living for the weekend

I did think at some point last year that I was beyond the whole ‘going out loads’ thing. I couldn’t even be bothered with the pub most of the time, for a number of reasons, but generally speaking I just couldn’t be arsed. I was fine with that – not necessarily getting older or whatever, just not caring anymore.

Suppose that would be getting older.

Anyway, circumstances changed and I found myself going out again and rediscovering the fact that I am capable of being old-fashioned Ian. Just with longer-lasting hangovers and a bit more work to do in the morning.

If I had remained given up on the dream of going out and getting hammered – it is a dream, you can’t take it away from me – I wouldn’t have experienced last night which was nothing short of bloody brilliant. Pub lunches that never happen, ‘one drink’ that starts at 4pm and finishes at 7am, singing with pimps, bringing the mirth at the roulette table by pretending to be Wesley Snipes, illegal piering, tattoo convention after parties, OHHHH YEEEEAH!, McMahon jumping off the pier*, goggles, eventually having that pub lunch comprising of a 6.30am Ginsters pastie… the list goes on, but could well be unsuitable for most ears.

Yes, my pants were pulled down outside. I need another new belt notch.

I am glad I have not died yet.

*Into sand, not the water.

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My week off work

Can anyone tell me what good use of a week off work is? Or at least what is considered a good, well-spent week off work? Because it would appear I don’t know. I decided it would be a good idea to visit my ladychum in Manchester and desecrate her flat for the week: good idea. That’s where they end.

In this week where I could be productive, fun, catch up on sleep and generally sort myself out a bit I have done nothing of the above. I’m surprised I even managed to arrive in Manchester without falling into a coma or something.

Instead of doing things I should be doing, exercising my brain or anything of the sort, I have spent the last couple of days – for example – finding old games to install on my netbook. I have also spent a lot of this time locating newer games that can successfully be tweaked enough to run on the very same netbook. Have I even played any of these games yet? Oh god no. You have to remember it’s the chase that’s the exciting part. After that it just gets boring. It’s the sitting, trawling through reams of half-literate nonsense all over the interspaz that gets me excited about the possibilities of these things. Then you finally load up a functioning version of Daggerfall and realise it’s slow, clunky and resoundingly old. Not at all like you remember it.

I haven’t been fun, though this is pretty much par for the course when it comes to post-2006-Leeds Ian, which was pretty much the cut-off point for me bothering to go out very much anymore. So surely with a lack of pubbing and drinking I have managed to catch up with some sleep? No. Awake at about half nine every morning, up at about half ten after staring at the walls for an hour. In a week where I have had no responsibilities whatsoever I have failed to even do the thing that is most important to me: to sleep.

Many would consider this a wasted week, but then many insist on doing things like going outside, talking to people and whatever else they feel is “normal”, whatever that is. I actually consider it a good week off.

Anyway, I have to go see if Oldblivion makes Oblivion playable on this tiny thing.

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