A new phenomenom
Yesterday was spent celebrating Volleyball Best Pal's (VBP) birthday. She had a bit of an impromptu celebration, not sure if she really was interested in doing anything. Boy and I spent from Thursday to yesterday debating her age. I knew my pal was a year younger than me, more or less, therefore only becoming 29. He was convinced she was hitting 3-0, mostly because of the text she sent him on Thursday, inviting us to the last-minute party:
After some drinks and chat at her's, we went off to a club. The Citrus Club was chosen cos it was supposed to be playing 60s cheesy music on their "Indie" night. And it was free entry before 11.30. "Cheap and cheerful" was VBP's motto for the night. I personally should have left after the drinks cos that shit is clearly not my thing. But she is VBP and I love her to bits, so I thought that I would do it for her.
The cheesy 60s music never arrived -- well, if you call Jimi Hendrix's "Foxy Lady" cheesy, then it did (and we had to cajole the DJ into even playing that). Mostly it was rock music, not bad, but we were there to dance. Most of it was too slow and only good for singing along with. And British people love a good sing-a-long. They would much prefer standing on the dance floor, arm linked, singing. Then they would have to pretend that they weren't pants at dancing. And they are, generally speaking, pants at dancing.
Apparently, this is what "Indie" nights are. VBP's partner, Niles, explained this concept to me. He assured me that we would be hearing Stone Roses' "Waterfalls" tonight, which, sure enough we did. Sign of a typical Indie night, he said. This was blowing my mind. So, all this bad music to dance to -- it was on purpose? Niles gave me a look, basically: don't expect anything more.
And with that revelation, I made my way to VBP on the dance floor. She didn't seem to be enjoying the music that greatly, but she's the kind of person that can do a drunken sway to just about anything. With Niles hunkered down with his extra-large can of Red Stripe, not about to nag her about leaving, she had no worries. I begged off, kissed her good-night, and made my way to the chippy's, the place I had been trying to get us to. Ah, nothing like a late night chippy.
- Hey, going to have a small thing at the flat on Thursday, celebrating my passage into old c*** status...
After some drinks and chat at her's, we went off to a club. The Citrus Club was chosen cos it was supposed to be playing 60s cheesy music on their "Indie" night. And it was free entry before 11.30. "Cheap and cheerful" was VBP's motto for the night. I personally should have left after the drinks cos that shit is clearly not my thing. But she is VBP and I love her to bits, so I thought that I would do it for her.
The cheesy 60s music never arrived -- well, if you call Jimi Hendrix's "Foxy Lady" cheesy, then it did (and we had to cajole the DJ into even playing that). Mostly it was rock music, not bad, but we were there to dance. Most of it was too slow and only good for singing along with. And British people love a good sing-a-long. They would much prefer standing on the dance floor, arm linked, singing. Then they would have to pretend that they weren't pants at dancing. And they are, generally speaking, pants at dancing.
Apparently, this is what "Indie" nights are. VBP's partner, Niles, explained this concept to me. He assured me that we would be hearing Stone Roses' "Waterfalls" tonight, which, sure enough we did. Sign of a typical Indie night, he said. This was blowing my mind. So, all this bad music to dance to -- it was on purpose? Niles gave me a look, basically: don't expect anything more.
And with that revelation, I made my way to VBP on the dance floor. She didn't seem to be enjoying the music that greatly, but she's the kind of person that can do a drunken sway to just about anything. With Niles hunkered down with his extra-large can of Red Stripe, not about to nag her about leaving, she had no worries. I begged off, kissed her good-night, and made my way to the chippy's, the place I had been trying to get us to. Ah, nothing like a late night chippy.
posted by Autumn at 15.10.06
4 Comments:
So what the hell is the chippy's? Is it another dnacehall, get something to eat or did you go home?
The chippy! The fish and chip shop! I was hungry, fool!
I said you're startin' to sound like the boy!!
What makes you say that? I thought the inclusion of the term "fool" kept it totally American.
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