(no subject)
No one on my friends list has updated in two days. I'm appalled. Get back on your LJz people!
Last night was an adventure and a half. My flatmates and I, having been let down in our plans for an english pub crawl, decided to go and hit the local. Writing off the Mascot Inn as crap in all possible ways, we went to the Eastlakes Hotel. Saturday night was going by largely unnoticed by the good people of Eastlakes, and the place had the distinct feeling that it could have been wednesday afternoon in Berridale. No loss on our part however, since it meant we had two pool tables to ourselves, and no wait-time at the bar, since we essentially had one bartender each. Inspired by the Eastlakes Hotel's thursday afternoon lingerie waitresses, we had a wide-ranging discussion of various "isms" such as feminism, sexism, and racism. God bless deep and meaningful discussions that are discussions rather than arguments. :D
The downside came when the seam in my pants gave way and the material parted nearly all the way to my boy bits. So Kelly and Bron went home via the bins, while me and Hugh went back and got me a new pair of pants, before we headed into the city to meet up with two other friends who happened to be out on the town.
Meeting them at the Pavilion (shudders), me and Hugh failed to get in due to the shoddy state of my driver's license (one corner has snapped off, and most of the information has rubbed off, leaving an almost blank white piece of plastic). So we stood out the front and ate bindived apples and kitkats while my friends came outside. Since they weren't up for a ramble over to the Lord Nelson, I suggested Scruffy Murphy's, owing to their fine reputation as a friendly Irish pub that served Guinness.
Entering the pub I wasn't surprised to see it full of bad music and ordinary folk. But I resolutely made my way to the bar and got me and Hugh a couple of pints. We then generally ignored the goings-on and drank our beer, while my friends danced away.
It's funny going to the city. You're presented with a smorgasbord of flesh in the form of skanky girls drunkenly falling all over the place and whatnot. You appreciate, in time-honoured male fashion, said flesh...(The thoughtline goes something along the lines of "Zomg! Boobs!) And then you think "I'm glad my girl has taste, class, elegance, and isn't in here making an arse of herself and being a slut" I'm blessed by a girl who is so ridiculously sexy, and yet so tastefully and elegantly so. It's funny, because on almost all levels, you don't like those skanky girls in the clubs in the city, but you still can't help looking... But I love that it just reinforces my appreciation of my girl.
Anyhow the night ended with long D&Ms on the church house steps of an old baptist church on George Street. After which me and Hugh continued home by bike, continuing with more D&Ms. We got home to find the bin gods had left us chocolate cake and milk. Which isn't so great for Hugh, but is great for me! Thankyou Kelly and Bron for milk and chocolate cake.
A strange night... I'd tell it in more detail, but they aren't my secrets to give away...
Last night was an adventure and a half. My flatmates and I, having been let down in our plans for an english pub crawl, decided to go and hit the local. Writing off the Mascot Inn as crap in all possible ways, we went to the Eastlakes Hotel. Saturday night was going by largely unnoticed by the good people of Eastlakes, and the place had the distinct feeling that it could have been wednesday afternoon in Berridale. No loss on our part however, since it meant we had two pool tables to ourselves, and no wait-time at the bar, since we essentially had one bartender each. Inspired by the Eastlakes Hotel's thursday afternoon lingerie waitresses, we had a wide-ranging discussion of various "isms" such as feminism, sexism, and racism. God bless deep and meaningful discussions that are discussions rather than arguments. :D
The downside came when the seam in my pants gave way and the material parted nearly all the way to my boy bits. So Kelly and Bron went home via the bins, while me and Hugh went back and got me a new pair of pants, before we headed into the city to meet up with two other friends who happened to be out on the town.
Meeting them at the Pavilion (shudders), me and Hugh failed to get in due to the shoddy state of my driver's license (one corner has snapped off, and most of the information has rubbed off, leaving an almost blank white piece of plastic). So we stood out the front and ate bindived apples and kitkats while my friends came outside. Since they weren't up for a ramble over to the Lord Nelson, I suggested Scruffy Murphy's, owing to their fine reputation as a friendly Irish pub that served Guinness.
Entering the pub I wasn't surprised to see it full of bad music and ordinary folk. But I resolutely made my way to the bar and got me and Hugh a couple of pints. We then generally ignored the goings-on and drank our beer, while my friends danced away.
It's funny going to the city. You're presented with a smorgasbord of flesh in the form of skanky girls drunkenly falling all over the place and whatnot. You appreciate, in time-honoured male fashion, said flesh...(The thoughtline goes something along the lines of "Zomg! Boobs!) And then you think "I'm glad my girl has taste, class, elegance, and isn't in here making an arse of herself and being a slut" I'm blessed by a girl who is so ridiculously sexy, and yet so tastefully and elegantly so. It's funny, because on almost all levels, you don't like those skanky girls in the clubs in the city, but you still can't help looking... But I love that it just reinforces my appreciation of my girl.
Anyhow the night ended with long D&Ms on the church house steps of an old baptist church on George Street. After which me and Hugh continued home by bike, continuing with more D&Ms. We got home to find the bin gods had left us chocolate cake and milk. Which isn't so great for Hugh, but is great for me! Thankyou Kelly and Bron for milk and chocolate cake.
A strange night... I'd tell it in more detail, but they aren't my secrets to give away...