So, what retarded shit went on this weekend? Quite a lot.


Met with psychotherapist JM. We discussed how mobile dating app Tinder hasn’t worked for me- not because of my shit game, but because the app won’t open, even after uninstalling and reinstalling. Bullshit.

So we looked at Plenty of Fish, another free site. She suggested I be genuine and show my vulnerabilities, bucking all the advice I’ve heard. I’ve tried keeping in touch with girls on POF but they are incredibly flaky.

Watched Vertigo, the Hitchcock classic at Manchester Odeon, as part of their Flashbacks programme.

Superb movie. You should watch it. The twists are incredible.

The bank holiday weekend rolled around and was set to be brilliant, but alas Danny Tenaglia cancelled his set at Sankeys due to illness. We got refunds and ended up going to Shaped at The Ritz, a sparsely populated cock-fest playing music too heavy and techno-ey for my liking. The few women in there were bland. A big contrast to Revolution on Oxford Rd, where we started- good music, nice décor, decent atmos (provided in part by live sax accompaniment), a handful of fit ones- the night was going great until AN accidentally dropped a bag of coke on the bar while searching for his money. He was very drunk by this point, as he always is, and the bartender waved over the Lennox-Lewis-lookalike doorman who turfed him straight out. Lewis suggested we “drink up and join him.”

Supposedly this was his first night of drinking in 3 months, as before that break his drinking was causing him problems. So he’s basically walked straight back into the same shit again.

Saturday I had no plans, so I went to Milton Club on my own to see what it’s like. The members bar opened earlier this year and I’ve been meaning to go for ages. I got in at 11:30 and they should have charged me, apparently, but because I was on my own they didn’t. Playing mostly mainstream RnB, the club was still quiet an hour later, by which time a group of cougars had pounced on me. I wanted to give them my card- advertising my other blog- but when I opened my card holder it was empty. I looked a right cunt. Ant made his way here but I knew I wouldn’t be able to get him in. As it happened AN turned up in trainers anyway, so he’d never have got in even if I’d arranged to bring a friend. We went to Walrus instead. Good music. Fit bar staff.

Sunday’s plans were to go to Boutique, which has such a limited online presence that I wasn’t actually sure if it still existed. Was due to meet AN again, but he fell asleep so when I was due to meet him I just rolled into Milton club again. Live percussion. Fit girls everywhere. After seeing the place gradually fill up, over the course of a few fucking HOURS, AN EVENTUALLY made it to town. I met him outside and we made it to Boutique, a smart, small venue with great old-school RnB. A handful of fine ladies there too.

I did the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, and had to pour the water over myself as KO was home alone and was the only person who could film it. I nominated AN who has bitched out of it before. He’s home alone as well as everyone else at his place is away. Seemingly he has limited friends too.

So in short, everyone is broke, everyone lives alone and nobody can do anything. I’m supposed to be on a stag do this coming weekend but the lads STILL haven’t organised it. It’ll be a fucking miracle if said stag makes it to the fucking altar.

But, as George Clooney says in From Dusk Til Dawn, “other than that, everything’s hunky-fuckin’-dory.”

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