Strange people roam the club strip on a Wednesday night. I don't know why I need to make this remark because I've known this for ages. Sometimes I just like to hear myself talk. Or type. Or whatever.
One of the things I hate most is going on my break at work or finishing work and not seeing a single sms or missed call. I like to be thought about, OK! So I was happy to see that Lu_doll had texted me asking if I would be going to the place where her band has residence for the jam night thing they have. I didn't think I was, because I was working until 11pm. But I went. A girl too lovely to resist an invitation from.
I made the drive in to the city and saw my friend Juju talking on the phone. She waved at me and once she saw me park, came running down the street, saying on her phone "this is my friend Matt! He stood up for me on Saturday night and made me feel special! He's one of the good 10%!". Awesome. Better than 9 out of 10, biatches! (see previous entry about saving face and lip service - although I really do think she was done wrong by). I played band groupie as they finished early (no one to play to) and sat with the band, the bands' girlfriends, and chatted with Lu. The lights were coming on so we walked up to the X, played some pool, and ruled the jukebox. All of the tables had wrong amounts of balls on them. Lu lost immediately after sinking the black ball, and then we played a doubles match against a guy who was 18 years and 1 hour old (too drunk to draw back a pool cue) and his friend who claimed to be ranked 57 in Queensland and made up his own rules. Full of shit! We killed them. We had this conversation about how we'd never consider ourselves good pool players. But apparently we're ranked higher than 57 in Queensland now. Full. Of. Shit.
Outside we saw a man who had called Lu "sister" earlier in the week, freely walking past security guards on the street with a Bundy and coke in his hand. We saw a confrontation between a drunk girl who was refused entry and brought back men to fight the security guards. No fighting, but scary times indeed. THEN the creepiest guy of all time. Stubbies, singlet, thongs, MULLET. Creepy looks in our direction. Time to go to the car, out of harms way. I dropped Lu home and ran a red light (unintentionally).
Shower. Hair is gross.
One of the things I hate most is going on my break at work or finishing work and not seeing a single sms or missed call. I like to be thought about, OK! So I was happy to see that Lu_doll had texted me asking if I would be going to the place where her band has residence for the jam night thing they have. I didn't think I was, because I was working until 11pm. But I went. A girl too lovely to resist an invitation from.
I made the drive in to the city and saw my friend Juju talking on the phone. She waved at me and once she saw me park, came running down the street, saying on her phone "this is my friend Matt! He stood up for me on Saturday night and made me feel special! He's one of the good 10%!". Awesome. Better than 9 out of 10, biatches! (see previous entry about saving face and lip service - although I really do think she was done wrong by). I played band groupie as they finished early (no one to play to) and sat with the band, the bands' girlfriends, and chatted with Lu. The lights were coming on so we walked up to the X, played some pool, and ruled the jukebox. All of the tables had wrong amounts of balls on them. Lu lost immediately after sinking the black ball, and then we played a doubles match against a guy who was 18 years and 1 hour old (too drunk to draw back a pool cue) and his friend who claimed to be ranked 57 in Queensland and made up his own rules. Full of shit! We killed them. We had this conversation about how we'd never consider ourselves good pool players. But apparently we're ranked higher than 57 in Queensland now. Full. Of. Shit.
Outside we saw a man who had called Lu "sister" earlier in the week, freely walking past security guards on the street with a Bundy and coke in his hand. We saw a confrontation between a drunk girl who was refused entry and brought back men to fight the security guards. No fighting, but scary times indeed. THEN the creepiest guy of all time. Stubbies, singlet, thongs, MULLET. Creepy looks in our direction. Time to go to the car, out of harms way. I dropped Lu home and ran a red light (unintentionally).
Shower. Hair is gross.
Don't worry, I get chased by creepy old men, too, and then I run red lights
Let me know, sir