Dead cats and missing phones

I went to see The Fay Wrays again on Saturday. I had a rather nice evening, it felt like a warm night in Paris what with all the french people in the room. There were two bands over from France called Neimo and Coco and another English band called Intervurt. It was like France Versus England, the English bands had been over to Paris earlier in the year so this was the second leg. I was there on my own as usual but I saw lots of people who knew me, I wasn't always too sure who they were though (that's myspace for you). I preceded to get copious amounts of Staropramen down my neck before the end of the night and later on my friend from work came along with his girlfriend which was a pleasant surprise so I looked like less of a loser. After the bands finished playing I was going to leave but the DJ who was Taz from The Sessions played a Donna Summer track and I had to go over and give him props as it were which meant I left with him and the band to find somewhere else to drink. So we're on Old Street trying to get a taxi when we misplaced the band there's just me Taz and a girl (I'll assume it was his girlfriend) who suggested we go to The Dolphin, at this point I was a few stops past drunk and game for anything or I didn't care, I'm not sure which. We got out of the taxi outside the venue but we needed some cash so we went to the cashpoint where I met a very nice Irish girl to whom I was probably talking a hell of a lot of nonsense, again who knows. This is where I lost the remaining members of the party so I headed in to the bar but they weren't there. I thought sod it I'm going home and went to wait for a bus which had it's very own resident nutter who seemed very pleased to be waiting for a bus that's crack for you though. Anyway got on the bus fell asleep until the last stop which luckily enough was my stop.

The resulting hangover was conspicuous by it's absence which was a relief I can tell you but as usual the guilt was still there made worse by the lack of suffering, you see whenever I go out and have a good time I always feel the guilt the next day. Someone told me it may be because I think I don't deserve to have a good time but I always worry I have offended someone or made a fool out of myself, I suppose they're right. I'm going to go out as much as i can despite the feeling bad the next day because I missed out a lot in my late teens and early twenties so I'm just making up for lost time, so here's to next time cheers.

Edit: I don't half ramble, hey.