Thursday is the new Friday.
I had a hell day at my job and was working till 8.00pm. My brain was pretty mushed by the end of it. Got the usual lets get a pint after work text from my pal Dobber. All good. The weather was balmy and I knew a cool beer would hit the spot, and wind me down after my long day at work.
I think I downed like 3 pints in about half an hour. The one thing I'm having a lot of trouble mastering is the whole drinking slow thing. I just can't seem to do it. God knows I've tried. Even tried switching from beer to rum one night, with diabolical effects.
Anyway Dobber had a hard day at work as well so he decided to get a bottle of buckfast to sip on, well for the energy, ya know. We didn't want to get caught swigging it in the beer garden, so we decided to mix it with Guiness. So was christened "The Black Monk". Sounds horrible, but is actually not to bad at all.
Fast forward, half an hour and I spied a reggae DJ that we were going to see up the road at the Telegraph. I told him last week that I'd burn him off some NZ Dub for him. I took him back to my place to and burned a cd for him. We went back to the pub and we all started having a jolly good time outside in the sun.
Eventually we piled up to the Telegraph and got into the skanking vibe. After a while I asked the guy I met, when he was playing. He then told me that he doesn't play much. I was a bit perplexed. I asked him again if he was Djing tonight. He told me he doesn't EVEN Dj. At that moment a guy, who looked a little similar walked into the Telegraph carrying a crate of records.
The penny dropped. I had invited a total stranger into my house, took him into my room, started burning a cd for him, left him in my room while I went pottering around my house. He could have been a bloody psycho, or a thief or thought I was up for a bit of bum sex. God only knows!
Anyway I had to get the cd back off him and give to the dj. I felt a bit sheepish, and bought the stranger, who was even a bit miffed by this point a Scrumpy Jack. This went on for a while. It seemed like everything was going to be ok. Then someone passed a spliff, that basically wiped me out.
I staggered out the Telegraph, quite early, and did the head in front of my feet walk, stopped in at the evil pizza place up the top of my street, got the standard drunken drumstick (which by the way is becoming quite a habit, and is scary because I don't even eat chicken.) Next thing, my alarm is going off and I have to go to the work.
I'm not too sure if I'll post the rest of my weekend, but did include:- The best curry I've ever had, a quiet DVD that turned into a bender at the Whitehorse, a few quiet drinks back at mine, a serious spanking session with belts, too much buckfast, russian cokes (the best shot ever!), semi naked pictures, and a spanish amazonian lady somehow ending up in my bed! Saturday afternoon consisted of getting quite toasted, me thinking that pavement's looked like travelaters, a small curling competition with brooms and ashtrays, a mad, mad party in Hackney, me and a friend cleaning up the party at the end (cos it was fun), a weird excursion to Stoke Newtington, and watching a Serbian freak mistaking essential oil for poppers, a wacko Irish guy playing early 1990's techno, and accompanying himself on a keyboard (he couldn't play to save himself) and a few dodgy things, that we only found out about after we left.
I think I downed like 3 pints in about half an hour. The one thing I'm having a lot of trouble mastering is the whole drinking slow thing. I just can't seem to do it. God knows I've tried. Even tried switching from beer to rum one night, with diabolical effects.
Anyway Dobber had a hard day at work as well so he decided to get a bottle of buckfast to sip on, well for the energy, ya know. We didn't want to get caught swigging it in the beer garden, so we decided to mix it with Guiness. So was christened "The Black Monk". Sounds horrible, but is actually not to bad at all.
Fast forward, half an hour and I spied a reggae DJ that we were going to see up the road at the Telegraph. I told him last week that I'd burn him off some NZ Dub for him. I took him back to my place to and burned a cd for him. We went back to the pub and we all started having a jolly good time outside in the sun.
Eventually we piled up to the Telegraph and got into the skanking vibe. After a while I asked the guy I met, when he was playing. He then told me that he doesn't play much. I was a bit perplexed. I asked him again if he was Djing tonight. He told me he doesn't EVEN Dj. At that moment a guy, who looked a little similar walked into the Telegraph carrying a crate of records.
The penny dropped. I had invited a total stranger into my house, took him into my room, started burning a cd for him, left him in my room while I went pottering around my house. He could have been a bloody psycho, or a thief or thought I was up for a bit of bum sex. God only knows!
Anyway I had to get the cd back off him and give to the dj. I felt a bit sheepish, and bought the stranger, who was even a bit miffed by this point a Scrumpy Jack. This went on for a while. It seemed like everything was going to be ok. Then someone passed a spliff, that basically wiped me out.
I staggered out the Telegraph, quite early, and did the head in front of my feet walk, stopped in at the evil pizza place up the top of my street, got the standard drunken drumstick (which by the way is becoming quite a habit, and is scary because I don't even eat chicken.) Next thing, my alarm is going off and I have to go to the work.
I'm not too sure if I'll post the rest of my weekend, but did include:- The best curry I've ever had, a quiet DVD that turned into a bender at the Whitehorse, a few quiet drinks back at mine, a serious spanking session with belts, too much buckfast, russian cokes (the best shot ever!), semi naked pictures, and a spanish amazonian lady somehow ending up in my bed! Saturday afternoon consisted of getting quite toasted, me thinking that pavement's looked like travelaters, a small curling competition with brooms and ashtrays, a mad, mad party in Hackney, me and a friend cleaning up the party at the end (cos it was fun), a weird excursion to Stoke Newtington, and watching a Serbian freak mistaking essential oil for poppers, a wacko Irish guy playing early 1990's techno, and accompanying himself on a keyboard (he couldn't play to save himself) and a few dodgy things, that we only found out about after we left.
posted by Myk at 2:13 PM
<< Home