Friday was a day of culture. Actually it was more of a day being so wrecked I shook like a lesbo on heat but that’s besides the point. Oh and it was a night of free wine. A whole 4 glasses. My chum Babs’ 4 month hibernation paid off and the clever little fucker got a first for his art degree. Being in his final year, along with the rest of the arty types and arty wannabes, he got to show off his wonderful work at a degree show which basically involved some ponces flouncing around in stupid skirts and some other nicer folks displaying the best of their work in the hope that someone will commission them to paint or make something pretty for a bunch of cash. Being fully knackered I was in the mood for art about as much as I was in the mood for giving my first blow job. I met some other non arty folks and headed art wards around 7pm. I lost the other non arty folks by about half past. And I thought I had no sense of culture. I’m sure you know how much I love a good moan but tonight I was in full moan mode and utterly annoyingly so. There was never enough wine, the paintings went misunderstood and the lack of air conditioning made for way too many BO ridden folk in silly clothes. I even resorted to downing people’s dregs and have since caught a nasty case of oral herpes, that’s how desperate I was to waken up and stop being the grouchy fucker in the corner. Actually that prize went to the one the only J BO who had the hangover for hell with a dicky tummy to match so she made for good company as I’m sure you can imagine. Once the champagne kicked in my head was up my ass, made for cosy viewing that did and my quest for more free wine continued. I hung around randoms and tried to look interested in their colour schemes and splodges in an attempt to pilfer free alcohol. I made no friends and commissioned a pretty bag which I can never afford and made the usual ass of myself but I come to expect nothing less. There was even a space hopper in the house which people had major difficulties blowing up. I offered to get my lips around it and muff puff it to full capacity but for some reason my kind offer went unheard. We headed off into town, desperate to escape the masses of overly dressed coloured haired people who were most unliberal with their alcohol. Myself and Lil Red were supposed to go to a real ‘disco’ in the hidden depths of Bucksburn which I had oddly looked forward to, any excuse to get my party frock and bows on to twirl myself around the floor like an frenetic old person who over exaggerates every side shuffle and shoulder shimmy. However, Lil Red decided to abandon all eighties moves and clothes and go play with Beautiful Boy and his Beautiful Twin where I consumed more dregs and alcopops before heading home pre midnight to stick my lip (facial for once) to the toilet bowl making such a good impression. The last time I was that wasted I rolled around in my own spew for a whole night, having no energy to make it to the bog in time and so I worried that I would have a repeat performance of such a degrading incident. I would rather stuff my head down the bowl of 3 hour old vomit than face the public humiliation of barfing on the person next to me during the night. Don’t y’all wish you were as classy as me? I did survive the night, having set my phone to go off every hour to make sure I didn’t choke on my puke and die in the night cause that would be a shame. It was so good to wake up, have the day off, feel like a turd and to know that I had to party again that evening for the infamous J Bo birthday celebrations. The only way to get over a hangover is to get to the drinking but everyone knows that huh? And so in the company of Young B I began tea time drinking wearing an apparently ‘foxy’ number which I knew I would regret wearing later. It was a real pretty white (yes, really, The Fee in white) cardy type thing which looked so good but with the lack of air conditioning in a later club made me sweat like a big sweaty animal. We met Lil Red and Straight Man A and headed Illicit Still wards to be greeted by a getting drunker by the second J Bo decked out in her granny’s carpet with extra gypsy frill but still looking all good despite the odd ensemble which was a multitude of assorted browns. Various others including BB and his BT also joined in the fun and we left J Bo with her hot boyfriend and others to go shake our asses to some cheesy Saturday night tunes. I did indeed have a real good night and had at least 8 drinks, spent my months wage and danced for 2 hours solid in afore mentioned woolly cardy thinking I was THE coolest dancer in the place while really I was like a lumbering moonwalker with beetroot cheeks and beefy like BO but hey. And so today I am twatted like a long flappy twatt and can think of nothing but Cruden Bay. Guten nacht fellow others who speak foreign languages as well as I speak shite.