I write this, as I sit at my desk, sweating, on the verge of death and feeling like my p45 is going to be handed to me at any point. Don't get me wrong, all of these are strong negatives for my career, but as a consequence of the quality of weekend I've just had - it's a conseuence I'm willing to accept.
As 2011 continues it's rapid downward out of control spiral, a few of the key points from the last 48 hours to note back on, are I can't have just one 'social' after work drink, weird fishes on gogle are funny, mangina racing is as hard as it sounds, girls are a pain in the arse, and canadian girls are very easy.
let me explain.
We'll pick up the weekend, where it usually starts. Thursday.
Having jumped on a train up to Liverpool to support Thomas's event he was putting on, Thomas, Neil, Boris and I decide that the only way to deal with a sensible occasion, is to drink as much wine as is physically possible in about 2 hours.
Now, Neil and Wayne are substantially larger than I am, and given that they'd been out for a 3 course lunch 2 hours prior to the event, and I'd only eaten a bowl of Frosties as my pre night out fuel, it shouldnot have been any suprise as to the state that I wuld fin myself in in about 6 hours time.
At the end of the evening, I was taking my pants off in front of a room full of people, prancing round pretending I was a heavyweight boxer, and trying to snog (this is a word I'm going to start bringing back!) the 40 year old waitress (spectacularly unsuccessful it should be added!). brilliant - it was still only 11pm by this point.
Now the account for the next few hours is not something that I can really take all that much credit for to be honest. i only found out how much 'fun' I'd had, when I spoke to Thomas at 1pm the following day. In brief, here is a list of my evening.
• Got naked down to my boxers in a room of 100 people to put on some boxing shorts signed by joe frazier
• Started pretending to box people (still topless)
• Lost the boys and wandered into a club on my own
• They found me eventually in the club, stood on the bar waving my shirt round my head shouting at people
• Passed out in the corner of the club
• Walked round the club in just my boxers for a bet
• Pulled the 3 ugliest girls in the club (so awful Thomas flat out refused to even talk to them!)
• Passed out on a street and had to be carried to the casino by my mates (video being sent to me of this!)
• Fell asleep on the roulette table
• Got back to hotel at 5.30 am. Alarm went off at 6.30am
I’m supposed to be an adult......
Now this would all be fine if it was a weekend, however, I was on the 7am train back to London, and sidling up for a full days work. Needless to say I wasn't pariculary productive.
Danny emails me at about 4pm monaing how he's being sent away for 2 weeks with work, and demands we go for a quick post work beer as he's annoyed. Still sweating out the jaegerbombs from my liverpool trip, I reluctantly agree.
What happens with one after work beer, is that as Danny and Jack (Aka the Perverts Penthouse) get carried away, a few hours slip by, and before we know it we're about 8 pints, 4 bottles of wine and an awkward Thai meal with some rather stuck up girls into the night... So much for a casual Julian Speroni.
Before we knew what's happened, there we are again. Putting on the check shirts, Suede Boots and Cowboy hats (a very camp sounding description admitedly), and marching down to South Pacific. Our favourite haunt.
Now a girl i've been noshing recently has decided that she wants in. She informs me that she'll be coming round. I'm livid.
I'm all lined up to do the shuffle, nosh some birds and spend some serious time pouring drinks on my face. So when a girl, admittedly one who will be blowing me off later, tells me she's coming over, I'm furious. She wants to stay in. I don't. Classic miscommunication.
Danny and I decide that ignoring her texts, and tryign to leave the house before she arrives is the easiest way to solve this situation. We get caught. Right as we;re skippig out the house, Cowboy hats in place, she arrives. Ballbags!
Begrudgingly, we let her come along with us. But like an 8year old child who's not been allowed to eat his bodyweight in sweets, I throw a strop. mature I know. But what can i say, i was livid she was here.
i felt like she had single handedly halted my snogging crusade. As such, I wasn't goign to talk to her, and I was still going to try and face rape a few naughty little numbers.
Now, I felt bad for the sum of about 3.4 seconds. I'd spent 10 days 'wooing' her, this even included cooking this bird dinner. She probbaly thought she'd found 'a nice one'. Wrong - sorry love. Just needed the points, and you upped the average fairly significantly for the year....>!
As we hit South pacific, Danny and I start shuffling, straight arming and noshing. I don't know what it is about that place, but it's always full of women who like lads with questionable dance moves, drink remnants all over their face and check shirts which are aggressively unbuttoned.
The next few hours pass by, and in the meantime I've had to turn down offers from a 31 yr old married woman, a couple of really quite revolting '1 pointers', and one super looking blonde number. This girl has really cost me tonight. Textbook Opportunity Cost. She'll pay for this.
With me having been dragged out the game for the evenning, Danny steps up to the plate, and finds a Northern Blonde bird to go home with. Now for some reason, I'm imagining pity as he looked at the fury on my face at this point, he invites me and the bird back with him and the girl. I aggree - instantly.
As we arrive to their house, bottle of vodka at 3am in hand, we get to work. I ditch the girl who came with me, and begin sidling into this new house of girls. They live 10 minutes away, are hot and have 'bbq sluts' basically tattooed to their foreheads.
Now one chump (Daveo), decides that we're obviously stealing all the attention from him, and he doens't like this (á la Peter), and boldly proclaims that he will 'do anything' for 50p.
First challenge, get ballsack naked in the kitchen, and walk round the house with a mangina. Called his bluff.
To be fair, after 5 minutes of squealing he agrees, and collects his 50p. problem is, this lad does not have the body to do this. He spends this 5 minute period moaning about his insecurties about being fat, and as he finally caved and took his clothes off, one of the girls walks in with the line "Dave, didn't realise you were that fat!!". magic.
Annoyed at his humiliation, Dave challenges us to the same dare. danny and I agree. Guns out, chest out, nuts out. he's annoyed.
Posing with a mangina, while tensing your guns and flirting with a house full of girls, straight out of chapter 3 of the flirting textbook.
The girl who originally came with me, has had to watch all of this and had the indignity of being made to take the photos. She'd been ignored, and shown her place. a strong second after anonymous clunge.
Walking home, danny and I decide to mangina race home. 5.30 am, through a very respectable part of London. Why wouldn't we be doing this?
Arriving home, I now turn some attention to this girl who I've dragged round for the entire evening and ignored. Unbelieveably, she's still talking to me. Fine. We'll soon stop that. I demand a blozza, and again, amazingly she agrees.
Now to top off my treatment of her throughout the evening, without realising, at 6am I pass out and start snoring mid Blozz. Is there a better way to drop off to sleep. I'm not sure there is to be honest.
Understandably she's mildly furious. Nevermind. 1-0 Jack. Turn her over, finish off, chuck her a loo roll and off I go to pass out. And people doubted I had a romantic side?!
Sunday lunchtime rolls around, and one of our housemates has had a bit of bad news, so Danny and I decide to take him out for a few drinks in Covent GArden to cheer him up. And as you can guess, we didn't do so well at a couple of sociable beers.
At this point Bruce has turned up as well, and immediately begins to explain his previous nights antics.
In summary the key points from this anecdote were;
- She was 41 years old
- Hadn't seen the inside of a gym for at least 20 years
- had a vagina that "had all sorts wrong with it"
- Had nipple like "coke cans", with a har lump in the middle
- mad bruce do her up the arse both evening and following morning.
After watching a street performer throw a hissy fit at a group of school children, we move into a sports bar and begin rounds of lagers, shots nachos and chicken wings.
Now one simple thing is all that it took to tip us over the edge into boozing hard on a sunday afternoon.
A red plastic cup. Supposedly for the chicken wing bones. or....... Flipcup?
A simple game, and a solid way to run up a pretty sizeable bar tab for a Sunday afternoon.
Mid game of flip cup, about 4 Chilean little sloshpots stroll into the bar. Immediately questioning them (flirting), we find out that a pub crawl is due to start in this bar in about 30 minutes time. Well, there we have it. Rather than get some sleep, and iron my shirts for the working week ahead, I'm going to get shitfaced and try and sleep with as many naive tourists as i can. Sorry work! I've got STDs to spread.
Some Canadian girls then head over to ask if we're going on the bar crawl, as they only want to if some hot guys are going. i think 4 lads nearly jizzed in their pants right on the spot. This is excellent news. Girls are basically throwing theselves towards us, and we've not even had to straight arm a drink to show off as yet!!
Signed up, shots in, and a permanent marker pen in hand, we follow the smell of young snatch to the first bar.
Now halfway through the evening, we genuinely face a relatively monstrous conundrum. There's a choice of honeys to choose from. this is a rare occasion, and one that should be savoured. we did.
We all ended up running round the bar trying to talk to all of them, trying to shuffle for all of them, make puns, get the guns out. There was too much choice.
Did we go Canadian, Irish or Chilean? A tough call Comrades. Like going into a cornershop with £1 and having to decide between a carton a Ribena, a Capri-Sun or a Calippo. nigh on impossible.
Sensing the fear we were experiencing. One of the Canadian girls really stepped up to the plate. Straight over, cards on the table, pants half unbuttoned. Decision made lads, we're heading towards Ottawa. Cue tedious puns about beavers, wood. Damn they were good.
Right about this point, jacob our housemate who we were consoling sees where this night is heading. Straight back to the Perverts Penthouse. Sensibly, as he wishes to keep his Mrs, he excuses himself.
So wrapped up in the excitement of vagina and Jaegerbombs, we all barely even noticed that our job of cheering him up was almost perfectly negaively correlated with the success of our clunge chasing - and by this point it was going pretty well.
Three 19 year old Canadian Girls, 3 sex driven guys. What else was going to happen?
Earlier in the evening, Bruce had introduced us to the concept of 'The Blitz'! the concept where once snogging, you bundle the honeys into a taxi as fast as you physically can. 2am rolls round and it's time for the Blitz.
Bless these little Canadians. They'd been suckered in by 'British' accents, 3 boys who had been 'classically trained in hip-hop', and one aspiring weatherman. Before they could even question what was happening to them, they were facing the inside of a 6 seater taxi taking them to a shame filled end to the evening.
Arriving home, we sit sround for about 5 minutes pretending to be nice hosts. At this point, I decide enough is enough, and take mine by the hand and tell her we're going upstairs. She agrees, very willingly (your honour) and almost skips after me. A super egoboost.
Danny folow my lead and practically carries his upstairs.
Bruce has the sofa. Nobody's bothered.
We hear them whinging about condoms, so Danny picks about 8 from his unnecessarily large supply and hands them out to each of us. Right in front of their faces. They know the score. Good girls.
20 minutes later, and the house is creaking like an 18th century whorehouse. 3 blokes, absolutely going to town on these 3 girls.
Now, we had stumbled across 3 screamers. For those of you unfortunate enough never to have heard of a screamer. You'll find one one day, and when you do, you will genuinely love it.
their hunger and love of cock is genuinelymmind blowingly exciting. From the first moment of grabbing your cock, through the initial time you chuck itinside her, right up to the finish, they scream and squeal in delight and sheer joy. it's fucking awesome.
The only thing better than this, is having a house full of them. I was pretty excited about listening to these 3 young Canadians shouting their heads off.
Just as I'm about to go in, she declares to me "This is my last night in Europe, and I've not had any 'freaky' sex the whole time I'm here. Sort me out!".
I nearly came right there and then. This is a little like telling Gary Glitter he's becoming changing room monitor for the u10 boys swimming team.
Now having listened to some of peter and my best friends weird sex they've been having recently, I decided that she was going to remember this incident.
I started slapping her, scratching her, throwing her about and even choking her at times. Chucking fingers in her arse and pinning her against a wall from behind. And with every change in position/attitude, she got louder and louder.
You know what, I was having a fucking brilliant time. I fucking love young, kiny girls. Well done Canada!
I know Bruce and Danny were having as good a time as I was, as i could hear almost every slap, slosh and scream through the walls.
Now, every lad will know that sober, trying to last longer than 30 seconds can be an issue (don't lie lads!), but hammered, lasting less than about 30 hours is a bit of a challenge! Now i was fed up with wearing a jonny, the one freaky thing she wouldn't let me do wa shove it in her arse, and i was about 2 weeks away from finishing off.
So like any responsible lad, i rip the Jonny off and try to carry on. This clever little fucker, even with her eyes shut and scremaing her head off, spots this almost instantly and demands I put a new one on if I don't want a little Canadian Jack.
Giggling, I tell her to blozz me off for a bit, then chcuk on a Jonny and bring out 'The Drill Man' to finish off.
lob the Jonny (full) out my bedroom window, look at the scratches all over the pair of us and congratulate myself on a transaction well completed.
i was quite tempted to play this song
They pick up, drip their way round the house and leave to go catch their 8am flight back to Canada. What a bunch of scremaing 'Good Eggs'. And to boot? they were all pretty attractive. A reall rarity for my 2011!
Now I'll be honest, as I finish this post, I'm not in a good way. I'm sweating, still stink of booze, my STD filled balls feel on fire and have a headache like a thunderstorm - but to be honest, it was all thoroughly worth it. Every last second of it.
In summation? Thursdays are a good night out, Sundays are the new Thursdays, Young girls touring europe are like Vagina on a stick, and never let Bruce sleep with a girl on your couch.
For those of you who like stats? I'm 66% of the way through my 2011 challenge, and we're only 39% of the way through the year. Magic.
Til nex time
Giggles and LOLs