Funky Town

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee! Social life.


Last night Jack asked me out to join him and Trader Joe (man, thinking of pseudonyms is getting harder and harder) and TJ's friend for drinks then 'out'. Had a rad time. First we went to Halo, which is trendy gay and all white and pink and curved surfaces, then Apex which is a bit warehousey with massive drag queens pulling friend chicken wings from their cleavage and boys dancing on bars with their massive hard-ons barely contained in their jockstraps (it was, funnily enough, singularly unarousing).

Some really drunk girl made friends with us in Halo. She was really pretty. And I hope it was the alcohol that made her dumb. She was fascinated with my argyle sweater and kept stroking my chest (slightly alarming) then grabbed my arse (comical). When she asked me what my surname was first she asked if it started with a W then if it was Swedish (!!!). Possibly the highlight of the night though (apart from Jack in a t-shirt which is always mighty fine) was this entertaining comment heard at the urinal-

Like, he shouldn't give me any fucking fat attitude just because he's so fucking fat. It's not my fucking problem, he should be going to a fucking gym or, like, work out or something. Jesus.