Last night was amusing, as we went to Mood, which is located just off of Concert Square in Liverpool, we started late (9:30-ish) and headed straight to it. The night started slow to begin with, as the bar was fairly empty and not many people were dancing. The DJ was just playing random rubbish and pimping Chico from X-Factor, who will be ‘performing’ there on Valentine’s Day. I know where I’m not going then.*
Certain things crack the night into motion. Last night was around midnight, maybe a little later, when the DJ messed up and the music stopped. The DJ then tried and cover his mistake by talking to the crowd, but not before Me, Tom and Will started an ECW-style “You Fucked Up!” chant directed at him. He heard us and wasn’t impressed. Neither is my voice this morning as between that, and finding it funny that I should shout “MINGE!!” (in a B3ta Buffy Swearing Keyboard Stylee) at every given opportunity last night, my throat hurts.
Anyway, the music came back with a surprisingly good dance remix of Poison by Alice Cooper (which is fast becoming one of my favourite songs ever – the original, that is) and we continued dancing. Half the group had left to go somewhere else during the outage, so it was just Me, my mate Will, and housemates Tom and Guy left. The fun really started there as we met three girls who, whilst probably not girlfriend material, were certainly a lot of fun.
These girls were insane! I had a massive arguement with one of them on the fact that I have never seen Grease (and I have no desire to, I have a penis, I refuse to watch it) with the only words of the arguement for both sides were “But it’s Grease!”. They also came up with a dance that was called the “Baby, baby, cot death” which was just cruel. But the funniest thing by a country mile was that there was this couple who were trying to get it on on the dancefloor, these three hounded this couple, as they were being annoying towards us, and finished them up by dousing their romantic flame with a bottle of water over their heads. That’ll teach the love struck bastards.
In other news, I’ve finally got my hair cut. I actually really liked my old hair, but I have a big interview next week and I was getting called “Buffon” by my house mates because of my afro. It was time for a change and….I don’t like my hair now. It’s my own fault, as I asked for it to be cut in that style. Now I realise how it doesn’t suit me.
I’m just not sold. I reckon it needs to be an inch or so longer (story of my life). Comments and – more especially – complements are well and truly accepted!
* Incidentally, I’m trying to score tickets for Liverpool vs. Arsenal. Lo and behold, for the first time ever I am actually hoping I’m single on Valentine’s Day