FRIDAY NIGHTS AND JERSEY GIRLS (PART 1)

The following is a series of extracts from emails I've sent to a good friend of mine. Name's have been changed for protection of the innocent:
So where to begin?

Well, my friday night's have tended to go one way or another, being alone or being with friends, but this entire week had been like that. My social mode had kicked into some sort of warped degree that I was expecting to wake up by the end of the week as some form of socialised mutant who's lust for conversing would not only quench my thirst but turn me even to a greater malformed creature. But luckily that didn't happen or hasn't happened...yet

Earlier during the week, Monday, I had lied to M about attending the Full Moon Drumming, claiming, oh I'll be with a friend in Sydney and her reaction was more or less 'Laaaaaaaaaaameeee', a sentiment which she used often if I had backed out or had mention something that was, indeed, lame. M, for those joining the delusionally narcissistic TV show that is my life, is a friend who's coloured hair, piercings and use of the word 'babe' had begun to be a breath of fresh air, which would ostensibly be taken away after the light of a cigarette; a common hobby for those with the aforementioned metal-in-the-face and chemicals-in-the-hair. She bit me. We are now friends.

My actual arm, her actual bite. My actual stupidity.

So sitting alone planning on starting a game of Killzone 3, a game I've become thoroughly addicted to due to it's pace and gore, I had found myself slowed down and quite more social than killy. I was on Facebook and M and I had been texting back and forth and our conversation had turned to an odd mashup of sexual digs and plans for the weekend. I had told her I was busy tonight and she followed up with Lame (Re: see real translation above) and described how she'd be there in a cute dress and how there would be hippy chicks (damn, my one weakness) and how it'd be awesome.

Goddamn your accuracy, motivational poster.

My apprehension on how awesome it would be was followed with remembering a few other people saying how underwhelming and meh it was, mainly Lara. I had thought of how much I'd prefer to probably stay in and watch several disfigured alien Nazi's be shot in the face then watching a group of people, maybe, sit around in a circle and the possibility of either getting hit on by some girl who may have been high as fuck/a free spirit/[insert sexual counter culture type here] or maybe even M. Right now, couldn't really care too much.

At this moment in time, my father was slowly putting away beers, whilst he was 'puttng away' beers and had begun a phone conversation with a close friend known as Bruce.

I'm not a big fan of Bruce. He's a tall chubby guy with thinning, red hair and a constant need for either approval or a macho-facade. The amount of times I've heard him wax philosophically about the importance of being a man and how you can only find a woman by being so, has fallen on deaf ears and dishonest nods and I basically just glad that he's my father's friend and not mine.

Got nothing against redheads, I swear.

The phone conversation had become quite jolly and my father's footsteps lined the tiled corridor outside my room. My dad pushed my door open lightly to find me fairly clothed and typing extensively with a slight grin on my face, due to M and I essentially confirming her as some kind of coloured hair siren. My father was leaning in my room and asked me what I was doing tonight. I looked at my TV and back at the teeny tiny picture of M and said I'm not sure. He asked me if I was going out and I said, thinking about it. My dad asked me what time and I said I wasn't sure, maybe around 8:30. He then asked me how much it would cost for me to go pick up Bruce. I didn't notice until he said that, that whilst one hand was holding the phone, the other was filled with a Toohey's New. I thought I'd be easy on my Dad tonight and say $10, which I almost instantly regretted and followed up with 'Each'.

He then said to Bruce, yeah my son can pick you up soon. I was shocked by this because I hate my father's car. It's not because it's a 90's model. It's not because it's blue or large or the air-con doesn't work, but because it has a bonnet. My mother's car has a bonnet but it's curve gives the imagined view of you driving Flinstone style without the excessive leg strain. With her car, you have to make your own perception of where your car ends and the payment for another car begins. I'm not used to driving a car which has it's own perception locked in on where and when I should stop. It literally gives me the shakes. 

All bonnets are evil

I had a tiny discussion with my father about this and he came to the conclusion that I'd have to learn sooner or later. I said yeah and told him I'd pick Bruce up in about 10 minutes.

I went back online and told M I'd be going tonight and swiftly gathered up who was in town that I liked and who would be willing to go. I asked Lara first as she is always up to something, despite seeing her on Thursday and taking her out to lunch (apart of an unpaid debt) and then we went to a shop and bought her a bike. We didn't think it'd fit in the back of my mum's tiny car, but we did it and it was awesome, she's spending the weekend making it with her dad while I'd be in Sydney with Miz's 20th.

She was more than enthused to be hanging out and she was the only frame of reference I had to what happens at Full Moon Drumming. I said I'd pick her up at 8 and she was quite content with that, much like the previous night. We went to a gig last night for a friend's band called The Penny's, it's like folk infused with awesome New Orleans-esque Blues guitar. There was this girl that played before them last night who sounded like Joanna Newsom, it was quite contrived but I talked to her afterward and she sounded normal. She's doing Education at Uni and was wearing a dark blue shirt with polka dots. Her brown hair teased into a bit of a bun and a dark red lipstick on, which without close inspection, you would think would be just her natural glow, she had the same idolatry that comes with being a 'different' singer in these times but I think if she sang with her own voice she'd be fine. Yes, I'd be lying if I didn't think she was cute.

She's not...not cute(?)

So back to Friday night, after checking with Lara, who was more than in, I found my friend, Hayward and he had been really busy this week and I was essentially taking baby steps to not seem like one of those needy friends who're like WE TOTES NEED TO DO SOEMTHING TOGETHER, ZOMG I HAS NO OTHER FRIENDS, WHY U IGNORING MEH? LOL JK

But Hayward was more than happy to go, as he was already going....on acid. He prefaced his appearance for the night with, try not to take anything I say literally and maybe keep your distance just in case. I understood and told him I hope he has an awesome night out. Hayward's face always reminded me of a subdued Edgar Wright, his consistent stubble and a laugh that almost seemed as if he ever let out a laugh as boisterous as mine, it might kill him.

So with that I was off for an amazing night, however I did have to steep through a lot of mediocrity before getting to the god bits...which I will detail in the next two parts to conclude my weekend