Everything is wrong with me
Thursday, March 04, 2004
London, Part Two
Let's get right to it.


The alcohol was beginning to take its toll on us by Saturday. I'm not as young as I used to be, and I could feel my body thinking, "Dude, are you trying to kill yourself or what? If so, let's head to the KFC - I wanna get me some of that popcorn chicken." Saturday was more lame touristy stuff, but we started drinking in the middle of the afternoon. Again, we went to a club, which was pretty cool. The one thing this Saturday night in the UK had in common with every Saturday night in the States is that I made my weekly major mistake: I threw my card up on the bar. I felt a little bad for my brother and his friends, being all poor and all, so I bought them drinks (that sentence could also be translated as, "I really wanted to look good in front of my brother's attractive twenty-year old female friends, so I bought drinks for all of them, hoping that at least one of them would say at the end of the night, 'Hey, thanks a lot for those drinks. Would you prefer hand or mouth?'")

It gets a little blurry at this point, but I know that we left the club and went to a karaoke place. We were led there by three lovely Dutch girls who were studying in London: Marlon, Tricia, and Christina. One for me, one for Jimmy, one for David.

A word about karaoke: I love it, and I don't give a fuck. There's nothing better than getting super fucked up, and making an ass of yourself in front of a bunch of people. And I swear to god, chicks dig guys who have the a) balls and b) sense of humor to do karaoke. Of course, I shouldn't be giving advice on how to "get" chicks, since it's been so long that sometimes a whiff of a woman's perfume will give me a mild seizure, but I'm telling you - karaoke is gold.

I say this because Saturday night was undoubtedly the greatest karaoke performance of my life, and it led to some good old fashioned making out. The Darkness song "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" is HUGE right now in the UK. God didn't bless me with many things: good looks, self-respect, moderate- or even a little less than moderate-sized genitalia, etc - but he did give me a beautiful signing voice.

And I fucking killed this song (in a good way). The only thing I didn't realize was the long guitar breaks. When the first one came, I dropped down and started doing push-ups (girl ones, of course), because I didn't know what to do. I didn't realize there were like four different guitar breaks, so by the last one I would drop down and just sort of lie there shaking.

And the Dutch girls were very impressed, especially Marlon. I don't want to go into too much detail lest I make anyone nauseous, but I had to make out with Marlon in the fucking bathroom of our hotel room because my "friends" refused to give me an hour in the room (I could've done with about thirty-eight seconds). Nevertheless, that was the eighth time I've had a sex act performed on me by a Dutch girl, but the first time I didn't have to pay anything. And of the previous seven times, I actually had to pay double for six of them because, well, I'm pretty fucking gross.

And Marlon, if you are reading this, come to the US. I promise that I can give you a good life, and I will sing whatever karaoke songs you want and buy you vodka tonics with only the finest, most expensive vodka in the world in them. Then we can get high.


I think the best part of Sunday was looking over my bar tab (which, by the way, was an astounding £220 or $405 - ouch). They detail the time and type of every drink ordered, and there was some shit on there that I've never heard of. What the hell is cointreau? Or raspberry chambord? I didn't drink these. At least, I don't think I drink these.

On our last night, it was balls to the wall, so we did the only logical thing: we went to a gay club. Well, it wasn't officially gay, but we figured that about 66% of the entire club was gay men, and maybe 85% of all guys at the club were gay. We went here because, well, wouldn't you know - it's hard to find a place to drink in London after 12:30am on a Sunday night.

The bartender was beautiful and Spanish. I noticed David and Jimmy trying to speak Spanish to her, so I butted in to to brush them off and said, "They don't speak Spanish" and she laughed. Then she said something to me in Spanish, and I said, "Totally." She said something else, and I replied, "I know." This went on for a good while. She was probably saying:

Bartender: [in Spanish] "Wow, you are a chubby boy."
Me: [in English] "Yes, yes."
Bartender: [in Spanish] "Well, I'm going to go charge the shit out of your credit card for pretending to speak Spanish."
Me: [in English] "I completely agree."

We sat down to get waitress service. After a while, Jimmy, who was super-wasted at this point, turned to me and said:

Jimmy: "Dude, I think that one girl wants you."
Me: "Which one?"
Jimmy: "She obviously wants to fuck you."
Me: "Jim, which one?"
Jimmy: "The one that keeps coming over."
Me: "Dude, that's the fucking waitress."

And then the drama happened. Some sketchy dudes started talking to my brother's girl friends, and the girls wanted no part of them. I pretended to be the intimidating boyfriend, so much so that one of them came over to me and said, "Is it ok if we gets these girls to come and dance with us?" and I shook my head no. He said, "Sorry mate" and backed away.

But later, the same dude came around again and started dancing behind one of the girls. I got really pissed off and grabbed him, shoved him, and grabbed him again, and told him I would break his [expletive] jaw if I saw him again. Of course, this turned into a big hurrah, with people coming over, blah blah blah. But nothing happened and I didn't see him again.

I can't stress how uncharacteristic of me, and I told the girls this myself.

Me: "You don't understand, in real life, I'm such a pussy - and I don't like to use that word outside of the bedroom."
Girls: [after taking a second to get the "outside of the bedroom" joke, now disgusted and uncomfortable] "Um, ok."

Then it got really weird, and this is going to be a terrible explanation because I don't remember much. Some random guy slapped a random girl at the bar, so we jumped in, along with the bouncers, to break up their little quarrel. Then, the dude that slapped the girl was allowed back in the bar, and he came after David. They were tangled for a little bit, but then the bouncers came and took them outside. David was allowed back in the bar and we were allowed to stay, but at the time, having spent about $300 and having almost gotten in two fights, we decided to head home - we had to wake up for our flights in three hours.


I've learned many things from this trip, like...well, no, I haven't really learned anything. London is a beautiful city, which is even more beautiful when seen through the bleary-eyes of someone who has spent most of his time there drinking and eating Burger King. All in all, I think everyone had a good time. Jimmy called me at work yesterday, ecstatic at having gotten the pictures back, saying, "Jay, these pictures are unbelievable! There are so many in here I don't remember taking! Do you remember David playing bongos with a bunch of Jamaican guys?" I can't wait to get a look at those....

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