I survived (Barely). I have just returned home from a hellish train journey, where my body had obviously decided that all it wanted to say to me was 'And what the fuck do you think you've been doing?' and occasionally glare at me. Sweats, shakes, not quite getting to sleep, pains in everything (I really didn't know that even your hair could hurt!! :eek
and a twatting great big bloke sat next to me on the train who decided that he was going to read a broadsheet without folding it up, making sure that every time he wanted to turn the page that he'd jostle me, and go into what only can be called a pantomime of paper folding, I was tempted to do something, like maybe glare or huff and puff or even stab him in his big fat fucking head, but I had to make to with shaking, sweating and the occasional whimper.
So yeah, I went to the tattoo convention, and did exactly what I did last year, which was spend about half an hour wandering round, then spend the rest of the day drinking with a vengeance. I met up with the highly cool TenementFunster and his lovely wife, and sharing a table with a bunch of other people from the site. From there, TenementFunster and I went to the hallowed ship to meet up with TheQuestion for a couple of pints, then TheQuestion and I decided that maybe a trip to Garlic and shots and the Crobar would be in order. Well, that was the plan, and it did kind of happen, although I got cornered in the toilets of Garlic and shots by some bloke who decided to tell me all about his 'Lost love', and wouldn't let me piss until he'd told me his story. Leaving TheQuestion to think that I'd been abducted, which in all honesty I would have preferred. so yes, a beer and a shot later, we decide to head out to the Crobar, bumping into the aforementioned bloke who had a girl draped off his arm, making me want to run up to him and ask him about the heart rending story he'd just been compelled to tell me about, but I thought better of it. So yes, the Crobar. there's a bit of a queue, so I figured that my good friend Benji is probably about in there somewhere, as he always is, and I gave him a call, where I discovered that he was merely standing almost opposite us and is now an employee of said establishment. So we manage to skip the queue, and set about to drinking quite a lot. Things got a bit hazy from then on, there were a few free Jaegerbombs - always welcome
. Some mint bourbon which cost a ludicrous amount a shot, a very striking girl who was sat on the door that seemed to not be repelled by my absolute drunkeness, and intimated that she thought I was really nice (More fool her
). More Jaegerbombs, TheQuestion staggering home at some point, but I have no idea when. Then the bar closed, I met the owner, I also met Cakemix by some strange quirke of fate, to whom I can only think that there are apologies in order for such a staggering display of weaving, almost falling over and slurring. cue a few rounds of free B52s, after a long discussion of what actually goes in them and in what order, and then it turned out that the very nice girl (Of whom I already mentioned) also lived in Stoke Newington, where I was staying, and accompanied me on the night bus. Which was such a nice thing to do, I really wasn't in the best state by that point, and I'm useless with London busses at the best of times. I'm sure I completely bent her ear on the way back, but I'm sure that the power of speech had left me by that point, so she probably had to sit through half an hour or so of 'Y'sheee, thash wud ish all abooooou, you me besht maaate, you wanna figh'?' But I evidently had enough mind power left to not try it on with her (Which believe me was a minor fucking miracle considering the state of mind I was in) and to gallantly walk her back to her house to make sure she got back safely. Then I staggered the rest of the way back to Rhi and Tim's place, wrestled with the door for about 20 minutes before letting myself in - I had difficulty understanding the concept of turning the key and the door handle simultaneously. I then did that thing that drunk people do when trying to be really quiet, which is always the opposite of what you intend. I ended up tiptoeing into the front room, thinking that I was safe, then standing on a hair dryer, which not only hurt, quite a lot, but also turned the bloody thing on. Which beggars the question Exactly how many bloody buttons do you need on a hairdryer? there were hundreds of them! So I had to wrestle with a hairdryer with pissed fingers, turning dials, pushing buttons and sliding slidy things until it fell silent once again. To which I then fell over onto the sofa and got woken up about 4 hours later in the same position, still in my clothes (Which were pretty rank by then) with Rhi standing in the doorway glaring at me saying 'You were really fucking pissed last night weren't you?' Bless her.
Sunday: Hungover. Actually, no, no I wasn't. I was still pissed when I got woken up, then I got dragged round Morrisons while the alcohol slowly left my bloodstream, in fact I think that my blood had decided it wanted nothing to do with me and had decide to fuck off too. Leaving me a withered husk who could do nothing except quiver and smoke badly made roll ups. Then Tim made breakfast - for which I fucking love him. He also gave me a few lessons on 3DS Max, which I'm hoping to pick up again now. I then spent the afternoon firmly fixed to their sofa until I had to leave to go to the SG DVD Premiere thingy. Which was a bit odd. I met some lovely people, Doplex,Nixie TheNonStopDancer, Munch (Who was way too drunk to remember), CreamyGoodness, and some of the SGs, but of course by that time I was way too drunk to be able to actually make any sense, so I do thank them for their humouring and pitying smiles. I did feel damned uncomfortable at the start of the night, I was supposed to meet up with my Tattooist and her boyfriend,who were both very, very late, so I ended up doing my normal thing of standing on my own, too shy to really approach anyone, with not a lot to say. so I decided I'd overcome this by downing fuckloads of very expensive beer, looking sheepish and chain smoking until I had found an opening to speak to some of the people.
I did one thing that I'm not proud of, even though it was for the best in the long run, but, well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I don't like lying to people, even for their best interest. But well, I did, now I have to deal with that.
But, I realise that I've just written a fucking novel. If you've actually bothered to read through it all and get to this part, than you're a better person than I am. I'm now going to wait impatiently for Farscape season 3 to arrive, but I did get my hands on Danzig 777 - I luciferi, which is rather bloody good.
Did I mention I met TheNonStopDancer? That was the absolute highlight of my weekend, such a fine fellow, warm, fun, everything you could ever want him to be...
(There, how's that?
)
and a twatting great big bloke sat next to me on the train who decided that he was going to read a broadsheet without folding it up, making sure that every time he wanted to turn the page that he'd jostle me, and go into what only can be called a pantomime of paper folding, I was tempted to do something, like maybe glare or huff and puff or even stab him in his big fat fucking head, but I had to make to with shaking, sweating and the occasional whimper.So yeah, I went to the tattoo convention, and did exactly what I did last year, which was spend about half an hour wandering round, then spend the rest of the day drinking with a vengeance. I met up with the highly cool TenementFunster and his lovely wife, and sharing a table with a bunch of other people from the site. From there, TenementFunster and I went to the hallowed ship to meet up with TheQuestion for a couple of pints, then TheQuestion and I decided that maybe a trip to Garlic and shots and the Crobar would be in order. Well, that was the plan, and it did kind of happen, although I got cornered in the toilets of Garlic and shots by some bloke who decided to tell me all about his 'Lost love', and wouldn't let me piss until he'd told me his story. Leaving TheQuestion to think that I'd been abducted, which in all honesty I would have preferred. so yes, a beer and a shot later, we decide to head out to the Crobar, bumping into the aforementioned bloke who had a girl draped off his arm, making me want to run up to him and ask him about the heart rending story he'd just been compelled to tell me about, but I thought better of it. So yes, the Crobar. there's a bit of a queue, so I figured that my good friend Benji is probably about in there somewhere, as he always is, and I gave him a call, where I discovered that he was merely standing almost opposite us and is now an employee of said establishment. So we manage to skip the queue, and set about to drinking quite a lot. Things got a bit hazy from then on, there were a few free Jaegerbombs - always welcome
. Some mint bourbon which cost a ludicrous amount a shot, a very striking girl who was sat on the door that seemed to not be repelled by my absolute drunkeness, and intimated that she thought I was really nice (More fool her). More Jaegerbombs, TheQuestion staggering home at some point, but I have no idea when. Then the bar closed, I met the owner, I also met Cakemix by some strange quirke of fate, to whom I can only think that there are apologies in order for such a staggering display of weaving, almost falling over and slurring. cue a few rounds of free B52s, after a long discussion of what actually goes in them and in what order, and then it turned out that the very nice girl (Of whom I already mentioned) also lived in Stoke Newington, where I was staying, and accompanied me on the night bus. Which was such a nice thing to do, I really wasn't in the best state by that point, and I'm useless with London busses at the best of times. I'm sure I completely bent her ear on the way back, but I'm sure that the power of speech had left me by that point, so she probably had to sit through half an hour or so of 'Y'sheee, thash wud ish all abooooou, you me besht maaate, you wanna figh'?' But I evidently had enough mind power left to not try it on with her (Which believe me was a minor fucking miracle considering the state of mind I was in) and to gallantly walk her back to her house to make sure she got back safely. Then I staggered the rest of the way back to Rhi and Tim's place, wrestled with the door for about 20 minutes before letting myself in - I had difficulty understanding the concept of turning the key and the door handle simultaneously. I then did that thing that drunk people do when trying to be really quiet, which is always the opposite of what you intend. I ended up tiptoeing into the front room, thinking that I was safe, then standing on a hair dryer, which not only hurt, quite a lot, but also turned the bloody thing on. Which beggars the question Exactly how many bloody buttons do you need on a hairdryer? there were hundreds of them! So I had to wrestle with a hairdryer with pissed fingers, turning dials, pushing buttons and sliding slidy things until it fell silent once again. To which I then fell over onto the sofa and got woken up about 4 hours later in the same position, still in my clothes (Which were pretty rank by then) with Rhi standing in the doorway glaring at me saying 'You were really fucking pissed last night weren't you?' Bless her.Sunday: Hungover. Actually, no, no I wasn't. I was still pissed when I got woken up, then I got dragged round Morrisons while the alcohol slowly left my bloodstream, in fact I think that my blood had decided it wanted nothing to do with me and had decide to fuck off too. Leaving me a withered husk who could do nothing except quiver and smoke badly made roll ups. Then Tim made breakfast - for which I fucking love him. He also gave me a few lessons on 3DS Max, which I'm hoping to pick up again now. I then spent the afternoon firmly fixed to their sofa until I had to leave to go to the SG DVD Premiere thingy. Which was a bit odd. I met some lovely people, Doplex,Nixie TheNonStopDancer, Munch (Who was way too drunk to remember), CreamyGoodness, and some of the SGs, but of course by that time I was way too drunk to be able to actually make any sense, so I do thank them for their humouring and pitying smiles. I did feel damned uncomfortable at the start of the night, I was supposed to meet up with my Tattooist and her boyfriend,who were both very, very late, so I ended up doing my normal thing of standing on my own, too shy to really approach anyone, with not a lot to say. so I decided I'd overcome this by downing fuckloads of very expensive beer, looking sheepish and chain smoking until I had found an opening to speak to some of the people.
I did one thing that I'm not proud of, even though it was for the best in the long run, but, well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I don't like lying to people, even for their best interest. But well, I did, now I have to deal with that.
But, I realise that I've just written a fucking novel. If you've actually bothered to read through it all and get to this part, than you're a better person than I am. I'm now going to wait impatiently for Farscape season 3 to arrive, but I did get my hands on Danzig 777 - I luciferi, which is rather bloody good.
Did I mention I met TheNonStopDancer? That was the absolute highlight of my weekend, such a fine fellow, warm, fun, everything you could ever want him to be...
(There, how's that?
)VIEW 25 of 25 COMMENTS
mat8drb:
I went to Hook today for work, so I'm back down to earth. I think my next foreign work trips are Copenhagen and then South Germany. Maybe America inbetween, I'm not sure.
hunkpapa:
Yes, I'd do a sponsored one too; it was a web page about sponsored jumps that gave me the idea, so I think I'd probably do it that way. 10,000 feet, it said! 10,000! 