Fucked-Up Friday

 

Well. Friday was a bit of a blur. The 70% Dominican rum was a factor. I had it in my hip flask as a gang of us hit Manchester’s Spinningfields. Macko knew one of the doormen on Alchemist, who bent the rules to allow us all in. Some of us are big lads, so we frequently have to split up on nights out to trick door staff.

 

 

 

Met a fit blonde in there who my mates knew- they introduced me, telling her about some dodgy TV show I took part in a few months ago. She had great tits, and was talking to me about them. I’m sorry this is a little blurry. I got her Facebook details.

 

 

 

After that we strayed to Oast House (Good top row, hideous queues for drinks, huge beer garden surrounded by the new glass office complexes of the area), Revolution, (girls in criminally short skirts, see pic,) Mojos (dire indie dive) then to Walkabout (I lasted one drink and had to walk out.) It was too late to get the night bus on my own, which was my reserve tactic should things go wrong. Not long after this I had to phone around trying to figure out where everyone was, because I’d strayed from Walkabout’s entrance, and I eventually got a text from Walter- he was in Silks, the lap dancing bar.

 

Image

 

 

That will do for me, I thought. So I drew out a fuckload of money and dived in. I have a tendency to spend hideous amouts of money once I get into these clubs. I payed to get in, but had an overwhelming urge to drop my guts so I dived straight into the toilet and did so. On the way out I spotted Macko and Walter- Macko, who secretly hates me, thumbed to the door. The minibus was here to pick us up.

 

 

 

I payed £5 to have a shit. Basically.

 

 

 

Shit” was the operative word of the night. I Facebooked the Alchemist Girl but she went kinda cold on me after that. Fuck knows why. Story of my life- slutty birds go cold on me, yet decent birds- respectable types- I seem to do better with. Maybe bars aren’t the best place to look. People say this a lot, but bars and clubs are genuinely the ONLY places I’ve met girls. Unless you count Facebook, where girls have added me after seeing pictures of me… taken in bars and clubs.

 

 

 

What to do to get a shag…

 

 

 

Oh, and ALSO- despite going to the cash machine twice in one night, I seem to have lost my bank card. I cancelled it as soon as I noticed, but it was teatime Saturday before I did. Thankfully, due to Friday being such a weird night, I’ve got enough cash to last me a few days. Silver linings and all that.

 

 

 

But I’d much rather have my bank card and a woman to shag.

 

One thought on “Fucked-Up Friday

  1. Pingback: Well, I found my bank card… | Patrick Bateman's Blog

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