Sex Bombs

I meant to post about my Thursday night last week, but one thing lead to another and I was distracted enough not to get around to it. This is mostly because work these days is actually busy. Obviously complaining to random strangers helps; soon after I posted about my excess of free time at work, I got given a project to run which is keeping me busy and interested.

But Thursday night is really what I want to tell you about. I haven't had a bender in a while, and Thursday definitely qualifies as a bender! It all began on Tuesday, when Miss M, High School Obsession aka the Queen of Melodrama (depending on which blog you read) and I were all facebooking each other, trying to decide on a suitable night to get together. Let me just insert an aside here: High School Obsession is just that - the guy I was obsessed with throughout high school. He is also friends with Miss M, and has dated Phillygirl, who refers to him as the Queen of Melodrama. Confused? Think we're swingers? Not to worry. I will join Philly in referring to him as QoM from now on, as I'm no longer in high school and I'm certainly no longer obsessed with him. He recently arrived in London, and we've been talking for ages now about getting together to catch up. I have only seen him twice in the last 10 years, but we have kept in touch. Anyway, moving on.

After writing all sorts of nonsense on each other's walls for most of the morning, we finally decided on the Walkabout at Temple for Thursday night. For non-Londoners, the Walkabout is a chain of Australian bars, known for serving Aussie and Saffa beers/ciders and for general rowdiness. You don't go to the Walkabout for a quiet drink.

Our night went down something like this:

6:30 - I arrive at the Walkabout only to find Miss M, Queen of Melodrama and Tonsil (another school friend) already waiting, drinks in hand - including one for me of course.
7:05 - The Evil Three order snakebites (a mix of half lager, half cider and optional blackcurrant cordial) and make me drink one with them, despite my plea to stick to savanna (South African cider). It's worth noting here that some pubs refuse to serve snakebites, because the intentional mixing of beer and cider gets you very drunk, very quickly.
7:30 - A girl walks around asking if anyone is Australian or Kiwi. We discover that auditions for Australian Idol are being held in the bar that very evening.
7:33 - Commotion ensues as we vehemently argue which song to sing. It doesn't matter that we're not Aussie, it's karaoke baby!
7:37 - We decide on Sex Bomb. Tonsil declines to join in, Miss M is forcefully persuaded.
7:45 - Snakebite number 2. I discover I can't actually drink a pint at a reasonable pace - I have a psychological block against it. Tonsil arranges to have my pint put into two smaller glasses. These go down like cooldrink - problem solved!
7:46 - We make the sublime discovery that is Naked Ass Guy. He is this total chav, hanging out at the bar, who has stuck his hands down the back of his jeans. You know the way someone might put their hands in the back pockets when they're standing around? Well, he puts his inside the pants, and then proceeds to sensually caress his own ass until his jeans are hanging somewhere down by his knees, and his naked ass is displayed for the whole room to see. He frequently stops rubbing his butt long enough to take both his girlfriend's hands in his smelly mitts, and then returns them to the treasure trove of secrets and gets his ass out for us again.
7:49 - We are laughing so hard we can't breathe. Tears are running down our cheeks, we have stomach cramps.
8:05 - Naked Ass Guy unsticks his naked ass from the bar and strolls along to the other side of the room - hands now out the jeans. Miss M and I follow him, desperate for one more glimpse of the naked ass.
8:20 - Back at the table. Snakebite number 3. We get impatient as we haven't been called up to sing our song yet, and we've had to sit through some absolute corkers, including the worst rendition of I Will Always Love You we have ever heard.
8:30 - We go and harrass the karaoke guys, demanding to be let onto the stage.
8:40 - It's our time. We perform a terrible rendition of Sex Bomb. Queen is on lead vocals, Miss M and I are supposed to sing back-up. What we actually do is dance around Queen like music video hoes, and shout SEX BOMB SEX BOMB when it comes to the chorus, as those are the only words we know.
8:45 - Back at the table. High fiving each other. We are so great - best act of the night by a landslide.
9:00 - Snakebite number 4.
9:15 - I go outside with Queen and share his cigarette. I don't actually smoke - 'nuff said.
Sometime after that - Miss M's climbing buddy arrives. Can't remember his name. We gather around him and shout rubbish in his ear.
Even later - We're dancing in the middle of the bar to some of the worst karaoke we've ever heard. But dude, it's like, the most fun we've ever had. We rock. We rock so hard.
Later still - Snakebite number 5? Could be. Too busy dancing to really keep track. Feeling a little dizzy. Oh wait, that would be the disco lights. Hold on... there were disco lights?
And later still - Man, we're awesome! We ARE the party. We are the world. We're like, the only people who can do anything and who matter and stuff. Or whatever.
Sometime after 12:30 - Leave the bar. Dodgy hotdog at the station. Miss M and I try to pay the hotdog guy with the free T-shirts they were handing out in the bar. He's having none of it.
Around 1 - Somehow we wake up in time for our stop. We're at our stop. Stumble home and ring the buzzer, waking all three housemates up.
7am - Wake up with a mouth as dry as Ghandi's sandal. Find t-shirt on my bedroom floor; it says I Am The Next Australian Idol.

Good times. ;-)