Sunday, March 27, 2005
Stag night
And with a woosh, the weekend has sped by.
Friday: PH & JB were up. AM's flatmate was having a birthday bash. Somehow managed to combine both into an evening in the Offal Lounge. PH shaken with the news that IT is engaged.
Saturday: Bloke about to get married. The usual routine of drinking and strippers.
We started out in Sportsters. Lucifer take note: I'm aware that the needle on my karma tank always seems to run a little closer to E than F, and Sportsters is waiting for me in the afterlife. Retribution for my deeds that were spoken, unspoken, actioned or otherwise. Scoot across the road to a strip joint. Walked in, sat about, feeling uncomfortable. Woman identifies me as a meek target, a darkie, lacking charisma, and with a self certainty far too diluted than is necessary to make women fall for him.
Woman: "Want a dance?" she says in a tone condescendingly appropriate to her assumptions of me.
DD: "I'm gay." slightly blazee.
Woman: "I do gay guys too".
DD: "Yeah, but i'm not gonna get turned on by it, am I?"
Woman, now stumped, turns and tries to walk away, as John desperately tries to convince her of my heterosexuality. Dammit John, what I am supposed to say? That I'm not turned on by agressive, self serving imbiciles, besides, I find you rather intimidating. Not to mention expensive.
GvW, scared of his wife, decides that if approached, his tactic will be to claim partnership with myself.
Then to the casino, which truth be told, I was looking forward to even less than the strip joint - I find them excessively boring. Until KY provided me with a simplistic mathematical conundrum. In roulette, betting on red, consistently, with eventually yield a positive result. So I took a pen and paper, and did some basic probabality calculations, and with the help of GvW concluded that I had a ridiculously high chance of winning. Still doing the math now, but i'm up 20quid anyway.
Then exit the show and head down to BM's flat for a gathering of randoms. And after a few whisky's, as much as I tried not to, I found one of those ever so complacently happy with life little sh*tes, that forced me to do my usual sociopath routine. Then there was Xaxier. A 29 year old guy dating 19 year old girl. Flatmate of BM feels sorry for the girl, as he believes that she will eventually be heartbroken.
a. I have no sympathy, largely because she will learn from this.
b. She could leave him.
c. I don't believe that you can ever really love someone else.
d. He keeps half a dozen of female friends to prop up an ailing ego, and she desperately flirts with plain looking men to get his attention. They both deserve each other.
Of course, flatmate of BM called me an unenlightened insensitive waste of space, and I considered him a narrow minded weak sheep.
BM had already drunk 15 shots of Absinth before I arrived, and heckled that he could outdrink anyone else. Vomit and humilitation a two or three hours later.
Walk all the way home, yapping to KM about social engineering, evolution of the psyche and all things pretentious, loudly and incoherently without any of the academic foundations necessary for a constructive debate.
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