Saturday 31 January 2009
Friday 30 January 2009
My Alternative Life from work (Shitmas and New Year's Eve)
I'm recollecting a bit here, so what would have been a long blog about shennanigans experienced since just before Shitmas and New Years will be condensed into the small parts I can remember, or just a rant about how I feel about it all now.
Shitmas was just that : SHIT ! the lead up to it, the night before and days after. Shitmas eve the norovirus struck chez Dread and wiped us out fo the next few days. Shitting and Puking and shaking and Sleeping, taking bets on who would make it to the toilet next.
Not to harp on on that. I had the best New Years Eve I've ever had in my life (so far) thanks to some online bullying from the Flapsandwich. Sicknote were booked to play a squat party, which I advised him not do as the payment was an insult to the talent and dedication of my favourite bunch of hedonists in the UK. What the fuck do I know? I was full of trepidation about ravelling all the way to Liverpool to a party which could have been full of nobheads and twats, then thought fuck it, I'll be with people I like and trust and i needed a good time. It surpassed all expectations; the venue was outstanding and I want to live in warehouse, throw parties, charge a small admission and put all profits toward Tantrum and Sicknote. It wont happen but thats what I'd like !
Very condensed version of affairs which tells me if I am to continue this rant of a stalker i have to write immediately following anything i think deserves writing about.
Shitmas was just that : SHIT ! the lead up to it, the night before and days after. Shitmas eve the norovirus struck chez Dread and wiped us out fo the next few days. Shitting and Puking and shaking and Sleeping, taking bets on who would make it to the toilet next.
Not to harp on on that. I had the best New Years Eve I've ever had in my life (so far) thanks to some online bullying from the Flapsandwich. Sicknote were booked to play a squat party, which I advised him not do as the payment was an insult to the talent and dedication of my favourite bunch of hedonists in the UK. What the fuck do I know? I was full of trepidation about ravelling all the way to Liverpool to a party which could have been full of nobheads and twats, then thought fuck it, I'll be with people I like and trust and i needed a good time. It surpassed all expectations; the venue was outstanding and I want to live in warehouse, throw parties, charge a small admission and put all profits toward Tantrum and Sicknote. It wont happen but thats what I'd like !
Very condensed version of affairs which tells me if I am to continue this rant of a stalker i have to write immediately following anything i think deserves writing about.
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