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Monday, June 23, 2003

OK, time to talk about Saturday night before I forget all about it.

Saturday I went out with my friend as usual, but we stayed close to home rather than head into the 'Biiiiiiiig City', because it had been raingin heavily, and my friend thought she might shrink! We started off in a bar next to where she lives, where we used to go regularly for their happy hour (great pizza, and cheap sangria) but hadn't been for a while. It was fairly quiet in there - I had forgotten just how crap the juke box was! Anyway, one of the customers was the owner of the hairdressers where both myself and my friend usually go to get our hair done (Steven the hairdresser probably warrants a whole entry to himself), and Sonja came over to talk to me. She was shocked to see my hair - Steven does it for me - bleached blonde, very short and spiky - not sure if this is late teenage rebellion, or early mid-life crisis. Anyway, I have been interviewing for jobs recently, and so my hair has gone back to boring and brown - still short and spiky, but much more conventional. Anyway, sonja didn't recognise me, and eventually connected me to my friend, who also goes to the same salon. She laughed, and said Steven would have a fit when he saw it - and quite rightly!

Then we moved on to another bar - much more trendy, and to our surprise the drinks were actually much cheaper. Lots of boys in this bar, but most seemed to be with women (this has been noted in the past - very much a couples bar, most of them not having eaten dinner - the only reason I can think of for so much sucky face going on). We had one drink here, and then decided to move on. My friend went to the loo, and while she was gone, this very good looking bloke comes up to me, smiling. Whoo hoo, I thought, this could be my lucky night. 'Are you English?' he asks. 'Er, yes' I reply, a little confused, as he had been a way away and probably hadn't heard my accent. Then he shattered my dreams with 'I don't know if you remember me, but we me tin the mexican that night of the karaoke......' (another story involving Steven the hairdresser - I may share this one day). 'Oh yeah', I said, 'you are, er, Declan?' 'No, Dermot', he said. I knew it was an Irish name - he himself is Irish. We laughed about the karaoke night - I ad won 2 prizes in the raffle - a meal for 2 and a $30 bar tab, and as they had restricted prizes to one per person, I had given him the bar tab. We laughed because I had never had my free meal, because soon after the place lost its liqour licence, and then subsequently closed - how can a mexican restuarant survive without tequila? Then my friend came back from the loo, all bright eyed at me chatting to such a fit looking guy. I introduced them. Then, Eric came over - Dermot's boyfriend........ just my luck!

Anyway, we moved on to an Irish bar, which is ok, not my favourite, but not bad. We got there and there was a band. They were really going for it - giving their all. Would be good in most circumstances, but when the bar is empty it's a little too much...... Loud, and trying to get the whooping and hollering going. Not very successful when there are about half a dozen people in there, including the bar staff. Then things just went from bad to worse, with the arrival of a stretch limo full of people celebrating one of their party's 40th birthday. They actually enjoyed the whooping and hollering. We left.

We went to the bar known as 'Gay Punk'. We read about it in an online review over a year ago - it used to be a bar, and new owners had taken over. They wanted to turn it into a restaurant, but couldn't get the licence, so decided to have live punk bands. However, it had used to be a gay bar, so they also had a back room with sofas, to try and keep their gay clientele. We had visited it a year ago, and the band had been loud, punk, and very gay. I am still not convinced the singer was a lesbian, she was too much of a cliche. Short blonde spiky hair (who am I to comment?), denim dungarees, and the tattoo on the nck - now 2 out of the 3 I would say definitely lesbian - but all 3? Come on, cliche!! Anyway, the bar was bizarre in the fact it was actually full of gay punks - not a mixture of gay and punk as we had thought. But hey, who says gay can't be punks? Anyway, Saturday we went in, and I thought I had died and gone to heaven. The place was full of hairy, tattooed men, most of whom were NOT gay. However, the boring and brown hair was a definite disadvantage - I was far too conventional. Saw some amazing sights - the few obligatory mullets of course (my friend is in denial that they are coming back into fashion), but some great dress sense going on. There was the woman with the big red flower in her hair, like she was on some Hawaiian beach. With the ripped black shirt, and the leopard skin (fake I hope) skirt. Then there was the girl I liked to call Madonna - wearing of all things a Ra-ra skirt - similar to the one I had owned myself back in 1981...... Her boyfriend was wearing the most amazing shoes - 2 inch thick crepe soles, with white stars all the way around them. My friend thought it was the bottom of his trousers, until she saw the height of the shoes.

Wow, this blogging is more difficult - I can't imagine anyone wanting to read through all that, but I could waffle on for ages yet. I am going to stop.

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