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[06 Nov 2006|02:00am] |
Woo, HOO.
My night didn't end up being bad at all.
I had to work, for a couple of hours. Dave was grateful, and I in turn was happy for the extra money. We sang songs about West Ham (His beloved team who defied the odds by beating Arsenal today) and had a good time. Dan and Rich turned up at the back door and insisted I join them later. Rich called a taxi for me and, rushing to finish, Lucy, Kate and I made for the Royal. And we got there in good time.
I danced like a fucking idiot and sang songs...some I hate, some I love, all with passion. Ben, good lad that he is was there too. Heartwarming to me was that he was looking forward to me being there. He's Dan's brother, and is fast becoming like a son to me..a pint-sixed, funball of a jack-in-the-box. He's had some ups and downs but i'm glad he's in our club. Rich was in fine form, yelling "GEEEEZAH!" along with me.
Mel and Stacey were there too. Mel dancing like someone who didn't know when dancing stopped. After I had flaked out and sat down in the leather seats, there she was...still at it. These young ones have too much energy.
Lucy and Kate and I got a taxi with Rich after some drunken procrastinating outside a closed cab rack. A golden jeweleed chariot pulled up out of the night, from nowhere, with a genial driver..and we got in. I ended my night with Lucy's legs draped across my waist, all jabbering away in the back seat. Not a bad night at all!
Now, I must crash. Tomorrow's college day. I've done well tonight, i've worked extra, and i've gone out.
Happy birthday Mel!
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[06 Nov 2006|03:32pm] |
I truly don't think people must know or care about those of us working in the catering trade who might have you know..THINGS TO FUCKING DO. We were all kept late on a Monday, again, by inconsiderate late people.
One such table were late, to the tune of about forty minutes, and THEN had starters. I suppose that's their way of apologising.
Another indicent I don't even want to mention because I might just punch the moon from the sky.
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[06 Nov 2006|04:59pm] |
Well, that's three things i'm good at. Cooking, writing, and sex. Allegedly. I just made an omellete so pissing great it'd take your jaw off and sling it at a wall. And I have never made bacon so proudly just cooked right in my cocking life. Next week I am going to make a crumble. A fucking crumble.
As for the sex, nothin' doing. Or rather, no-one doing.
Still, you have to HAND it to me for effort. I've done my printing, i'm ready to go to college and embarrass myself with my mumbling faux cockney voice.
Quote from last night:
Phylly: So yeah...when's er..Sabrina coming back..next month isn't it?
Lucy: Yeah...
Phylly: Good...good..
Lucy: You like her.
Phylly: No I don't...just interested..
Lucy: Yes you do..
Phylly: No..well, maybe a bit..
Girls must talk. A lot.
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| Jacob |
[06 Nov 2006|05:28pm] |
I said if you're not my son,
who are you?
I held my hands out,
and his were the same,
he had the same eyes,
and the same look in them,
but his skin was transparent,
his coat torn,
and his hair was bright black,
he said I may never be your son,
but you'll remember me one day
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