So I'm sitting at home, my brain foggy, limbs lackluster, when Teresa invites me out to some workmate of hers 21st birthday party. Having spent the week being run around by bratty little kids I thought screw it, perhaps getting out wouldn't be such a horrible thing. I'll just go, and pretend not to be my usual unsociable self for just one night.
I told myself, I'm not going to drink tonight. Bring on the sober fun!
6 hours, beer, chardonnay, three tequila shots (I really don't like tequila) and a trip into town later I realised that perhaps my resolution had been slightly presumptuous. Lets just say I was a little bit happy.
I got my first number too! Ok, yea, so weird thing to be proud of but you know...lol. Slightly flattering. Was feeling kind of more reckless than usual, but luckily I managed to retain some sense.
So the story goes: we met up with Rebekah and Lucy at the viaduct and were proceeding to a place called the 'Carpark'? (I think) when we run into this group of guys chaperoning this really drunk one wearing a cowboy hat with STAG printed on it in bold. Disbelieving, despite my 'slight' inebriation, I watched the signing of the t-shirt, flirtatious making out of Rebekah and the groom to be, and ceremonial friendly slap on the arse (the groom's of course).
Not really keen to follow we just watched as Bex and Lucy trailed off with them and then headed off on our own. Of all the coincidences though we ran into the same stag party again probably not even an hour later, and thanks to the tequila, had some fun dancing with them for a bit..lol (innocently you speculating people!) Although Teresa's work buddy was being a little possessive of her. Guys. *shakes head*
Anyway, they disappeared again but then all of a sudden one of the quieter ones came back and was like 'hey we're heading to another bar, but can I get your number?' !!?
I might have given it to him too, except I was thinking of my 021, which I still can't remember, so I just laughed and said he'd have to give me his. Possibly a good thing, wasn't really my type I think...blonde. Mum and dad's faces were so funny when I walked in first thing this morning with a phone number written in vivid unsubtly up my arm.
Pretty good night
Think I'm going to sleep now
Random interjection for today: I want a rubix cube
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
'I say! Does anyone want to play a game of scrabble!?'
A word of wisdom for those perhaps fortunate enough to have avoided such an enlightening experiance. Playing kitchen-maid at a party for people you don't really know is not the most enthralling occupation. In such situations one might even find themselves engaging in a discussion about the susceptability of midgets to claustrophobic inclinations and as to whether such an affliction may inhibit their ability to live in the bellybutton of a fat man.
Thank you Chloe.
Thank you mobile phone.
It may appear otherwise but my sanity was kept successfully intact.
At the risk of sounding like something out of some hopeless novel, I havn't kept a diary since I was 14 years old and blindly in love (well, what my idealistic immature self believed infatuation to be) with the boy who lived down the road and teased me every chance he could get. However, while determined to not fall into yet another technological trap (Yes...I procurred a C- on one of my papers last semester) I have come to realise that my brain is in need of some form of therapudic cleansing. Plus it gives me the opportunity to string together a whole lot of pretty words in an attempt to sound somewhat intellectual..for fun. Why didn't I think of this earlier?
Big day out. What can I say? Mixed feelings about the experiance. I hadn't really even considered going as I am hopelessly uneducated in the area of bands formed post-1990, and an unfortunately broke university student shamlessly living off the generosity of my parents. However, when offered cheap tickets through a friend with 'connections', I decided, to hell with it, why not.
Spent some time in the boiler room, wandered a bit, felt my bones physically crushed on the 'gravitron', and then ended up chilling outside on the grass for most of the afternoon, just feeling the base of the closest music reverberating in my chest. People watching is extremely entertaining and Sean is a great social mingler. You turn your head for two seconds and when you turn back hes 10 metres away taking a picture with a guy in a transformer mask or chatting to a puppeteer with a talent for making puppets dirty dance, like theyre old buddies from way back.
Rage against the machine. My first experiance moshing. Bloody brilliant.
Although it's still slightly unfathomable to me, even now, how mindlessly jumping up and down, crushed amongst sweaty bodies could in any way be appealing.
We started at the back of the crowd and admittedly, it was too tame to properly 'rage' against the machine, so a couple of the guys decided to try to push up to the front. While I knew I'd have a shitty time staying back I didn't want to go with them at first, because I didn't want to ruin their fun and I honestly didn't think they wanted me to (Sean's older brother was convinced I would get crushed)...however, after some deliberation and reassurances that yes I could go, I decided to screw trepedation and tag along. (My news years resolution being not to automatically shy away from things that might possibly put me out of my comfort zone). Luckily for me, 3 rather large muscular guys are well suited to pushing through crazy testosterone filled crowds.
We didn't get quite to the front, instead finding a mosh pit that had formed slightly back to one of the sides.
I have never seen anything like it in my life. I found probably the only other girl within a 10 metre radius and watched with fascination as a group of males formed a circle and literally threw themselves into each other, limbs flying dangerously, bodies literally rebounding to the edges as if made of rubber.
Honestly, I was quite content to hang back, and if any girls tried to go in on purpose the mosh stopped like there was some unwritten rule. Which is fair enough in my opinion. If guys accidently bash girls then they automatically end up looking like the bad ones.
Surprisingly, as long as I could see the guys near I was fine by myself, and the people around were pretty sweet. Chatted to a couple of hippy guys next to me in between bouts of mindless jumping, although I had to be careful not to get pulled forward toward the crazy part because it was pretty easy to unitentionally get sucked in.
It's really easy now, to imagine how things could go so wrong. You hear about it all the time but don't really understand until you've experienced it yourself. One accident, someone gets crushed, there's no way anyone could get out or in in an emergency.
On another note Im going to have to properly listen to Rage at some stage. I've never heard them before, and everything kind of blended into this big mush so I don't think I got to really appreciate their music.
Such an intense experiance though.
Surreal.
Off to camp until Friday. Unruly teenagers. Late nights. Ridiculously unhealthy but oh so good food.
I'm not sure this is such a good idea...
My mental and physical health is at risk.
Leaving in approximately 7 hours. Still have to pack.
Now why doesn't that surprise me...
(Is it abnormal for one to have bookmarked a website such as Dictionary.com?)
Goddam it Pix. You too Chloe. Everytime I read this through I find another bloody spelling mistake and I have to go back and change it because I can see your bloody faces in my bloody head.
Thank you Chloe.
Thank you mobile phone.
It may appear otherwise but my sanity was kept successfully intact.
At the risk of sounding like something out of some hopeless novel, I havn't kept a diary since I was 14 years old and blindly in love (well, what my idealistic immature self believed infatuation to be) with the boy who lived down the road and teased me every chance he could get. However, while determined to not fall into yet another technological trap (Yes...I procurred a C- on one of my papers last semester) I have come to realise that my brain is in need of some form of therapudic cleansing. Plus it gives me the opportunity to string together a whole lot of pretty words in an attempt to sound somewhat intellectual..for fun. Why didn't I think of this earlier?
Big day out. What can I say? Mixed feelings about the experiance. I hadn't really even considered going as I am hopelessly uneducated in the area of bands formed post-1990, and an unfortunately broke university student shamlessly living off the generosity of my parents. However, when offered cheap tickets through a friend with 'connections', I decided, to hell with it, why not.
Spent some time in the boiler room, wandered a bit, felt my bones physically crushed on the 'gravitron', and then ended up chilling outside on the grass for most of the afternoon, just feeling the base of the closest music reverberating in my chest. People watching is extremely entertaining and Sean is a great social mingler. You turn your head for two seconds and when you turn back hes 10 metres away taking a picture with a guy in a transformer mask or chatting to a puppeteer with a talent for making puppets dirty dance, like theyre old buddies from way back.
Rage against the machine. My first experiance moshing. Bloody brilliant.
Although it's still slightly unfathomable to me, even now, how mindlessly jumping up and down, crushed amongst sweaty bodies could in any way be appealing.
We started at the back of the crowd and admittedly, it was too tame to properly 'rage' against the machine, so a couple of the guys decided to try to push up to the front. While I knew I'd have a shitty time staying back I didn't want to go with them at first, because I didn't want to ruin their fun and I honestly didn't think they wanted me to (Sean's older brother was convinced I would get crushed)...however, after some deliberation and reassurances that yes I could go, I decided to screw trepedation and tag along. (My news years resolution being not to automatically shy away from things that might possibly put me out of my comfort zone). Luckily for me, 3 rather large muscular guys are well suited to pushing through crazy testosterone filled crowds.
We didn't get quite to the front, instead finding a mosh pit that had formed slightly back to one of the sides.
I have never seen anything like it in my life. I found probably the only other girl within a 10 metre radius and watched with fascination as a group of males formed a circle and literally threw themselves into each other, limbs flying dangerously, bodies literally rebounding to the edges as if made of rubber.
Honestly, I was quite content to hang back, and if any girls tried to go in on purpose the mosh stopped like there was some unwritten rule. Which is fair enough in my opinion. If guys accidently bash girls then they automatically end up looking like the bad ones.
Surprisingly, as long as I could see the guys near I was fine by myself, and the people around were pretty sweet. Chatted to a couple of hippy guys next to me in between bouts of mindless jumping, although I had to be careful not to get pulled forward toward the crazy part because it was pretty easy to unitentionally get sucked in.
It's really easy now, to imagine how things could go so wrong. You hear about it all the time but don't really understand until you've experienced it yourself. One accident, someone gets crushed, there's no way anyone could get out or in in an emergency.
On another note Im going to have to properly listen to Rage at some stage. I've never heard them before, and everything kind of blended into this big mush so I don't think I got to really appreciate their music.
Such an intense experiance though.
Surreal.
Off to camp until Friday. Unruly teenagers. Late nights. Ridiculously unhealthy but oh so good food.
I'm not sure this is such a good idea...
My mental and physical health is at risk.
Leaving in approximately 7 hours. Still have to pack.
Now why doesn't that surprise me...
(Is it abnormal for one to have bookmarked a website such as Dictionary.com?)
Goddam it Pix. You too Chloe. Everytime I read this through I find another bloody spelling mistake and I have to go back and change it because I can see your bloody faces in my bloody head.
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