And after dragging my sorry 3-hours-sleep ass around work and curbing the powerful urge I felt to hurl myself down the stairs (3 flights of wooden hell) I knew party was the only answer. I headed out around 9.30pm to meet Young B who has for some reason taken herself away from Glasgow to come to Aberdeen, to immerse herself into the lesbo lifestyle of Aberdeen. Madness I say madness. We also had the pleasure of J BO (sweating and everything) and Mad A (skull themed, in a good way) and hung around The Illicit Still (this pub does THE best fry up in history btw) not quite hearing conversation over Westlife and other such gems. For some reason the conversation did not srtay down its usual path of 'fanny' and 'bush' (same thing?) I guess they were trying to make an impression on the impressionable Young B... or maybe it was a lack of already consumed alcohol. All the pube pulling in the world could not persuade the straight girlies to accompany Young B and myself to the wonderful Castros even tho I am sure they would make fantastic honourary lesbos. So it was off to Castros, with the distance we had to walk from one pub to another we neeeded more alcohol. I had alreday had 6 whole drinks and was feeling rather unqueasy and so topped up my intake with alcopops. castros was castros. I danced once. Yes only once, and not even to Dannii or Britney but Shakira (in memory of the previous nights dance with a hot Belarussion (sp?) ). Young B is another of these ladies that 'doesn't do dancing'. not as a rule or anything but I'm guessing it was cos of the unfamiliar territory or the hangover from her previous nights over indulgence. And so we were the sociable people, meeting all sorts of randoms (some good some not so good) and being told we were 'fire hazards' more times that Vanessa Feltz has tried that diet. I was also gushed over quite a bit which made for an interesting night. My mate cooed at me for about an hour, telling me how fab and genuine I am, not to mention with the best smile. he doesn't know me so well. It was an ego boost all the same. Actually I thought I was an 1983 horror flick for awhile. There were at least 16 mullets in the place at the same time. Bad taste party is next week ladies and gents. There were also a number of full greasy headed uggers with ribbed (yes really) tank tops tucked into highly pulled up jeans pulled real tight with brown belts. No, not me. I drank more (in between the highly expensive water) and managed not to throw up which was just as well as my cubicle had been taken over lesbians. They were fighting. Mind you from the fisting and the noises it was hard to tell. My imagination does not stretch far, a bit like tight ankle socks. And so there was no dancing (people even put requests on for me...) but lots of talking and avoiding and of course, fun. Ther is so much more I could tell you about, like Luscious L who turned up in a long sleeve top with only one arm (yeah the top that is) and a bad boy clutchey or maybe the lesbian who bares an uncanny resemblance to a Cranky if y'all remeber them... the married chick and the dude where the chick dressed up as a kid and was the ugliest mutha u ever did see. But sadly, it is time to go and worry more about the total of 8 hours sleep I have had in 2 days and supress the urge I have to eat melted cheese. I will post more later to tell you all about my best TV moment which wasnt about lesbian sex.
Listening to: Kylie Vs New order which a lovely poof gave to me
You can check him out here
if u wanna