Are you intent on making it maybe even faking it then you'll see the real me
So last night after texting with Marion for a bit and hearing the latest of her depressing life, I decided to go to Mary's birthday thing after all. She had a few tables in the most appalling bar, Bon Vivant in Thistle Street, which is all marble tables and wood panelling and expensive lager and had a terrible dj spinning what probably used to be called Acid Jazz. I say "spinning", but obviously he was doing it on his iPod or something. They brought bizarre posh nibbles, which we mocked. There was brown stuff on pastry, brown stuff on top of bread, and pale pastelly-beige coloured stuff on crackers with cucumber artfully garnishing it. After that we went down to the Citrus Club for some indie disco action, and as the song says I danced to Joy Division. I'm currently preparing supernoodles because my cupasoups are past their best before date (I may examine them later). I also discussed going to see the reformed Magazine with Roger, but neither of us were very certain.