FR: Alcoholism, gallipoli and uninteresting drought breakers

Phew. What a weekend. From getting hammered, having a fuck ton of fun and trying to climb churches to having soul shattering numbers of blowouts from the uberhotties of gallipoli and pissing off a lot of kiwis.

Friday night…. causing a ruccus with the social circle for birthday times at the local. Several too many beers are sunk with jager bombs for chasers. As I ramble about labelling, the defining points of relationships and sex, the only girly I don’t already know is rather sparklemotion. Fuck it, guess I’ll hit on her later. Lots of talking, yelling, biting of heads, gay photo poses, shuffling and dirty dancing occurs over the next few hours, which now only exist in my memory as a confused mess of events.

Enter master J-rad. Stories are told and beers are consumed. Miss Sparklemotion is grabbed by the wrist and led to the balcony with no real information about where we are going or why we are going there. She doesn’t seem to mind. It becomes pretty clear nothing is going to happen. Something about a boyfriend and her having being forewarned about my expected behaviour.

Wing times. Two girls standing around on their phones. With simultaneous wing claws, girls are asked if they are ready to come home with us. They are not. They would prefer to walk away, while J-rad and I put on relentless waves of awesome (Cr: Jeffy). Eventually a bouncer asks them whats going on and he wanders over to us…. We rejoice that we are going to get kicked out…. Nope, he instead tells us that they are hot, and it is unfortunate they rejected our offers.

The rest of the night becomes a blur of lost interactions, attempted church climbing, dropping several almost full beers no more than a few minutes apart, and a lot of drunken rambling overlooking the city.

Saturday…. a call from the YouSarge crew presents the option of heading to the Gold Coast for a night of drunken delight. Decision is made, tunes are cranked and accelerator is planted. Lucky I have a keen eye for speed cameras.

Yet again more beers are downed, the future of pick up is discussed and we all head to the casino. Commence ego feed deluxe from some new friends who haven’t met me but read the blog. I kindy ask them to shut the fuck up, and stop providing food for my apparently starving ego.

I get talking to a cutie, who asks if we can embarass her friend by singing happy birthday to her. So we learn it in japanese, but the silly girl won’t come over to us, and we can’t get to where she is. She looks at us funny. My weekend’s first dose of gold coast glory. And by glory I mean gut-wreching bitchiness of satan.

Into the main clubbing area, I’m still battling my stupid ego which thinks it has something to prove to these guys. Commence ego destruction mission by doing a few quick sets which blow up quickly. Cool. Now to start just having fun and talking to friendly girls right?

Wrong.

I had forgotten that during bootcamp in this very city, our Saturday night had been codenamed “Gallipoli”, and for good reason. Many ego’s have been shot, bruised and destroyed by the inferno of bitch that is Cavill Avenue.

After some claw demonstrations for the boys, some fun time injection is needed, so the pick up line game is played. Guy 1 picks a line and a girl, guy 2 must use given line on given girl. Guy 2 repeats for guy 3 and this continues back around the circle. I mean tripod.

SingleWing turns into a random creative fucker when drunk, and decides that the following would make a great line.

Oh my god, last week I baked a pie that was the exact same colour as your skirt!

Once I stopped laughing, it was used to decent effect until set was interjected with large boyfriend.

I get over the battlefury women and instead play with my new wings social circle girls for a little bit, as they slowly rebuild my hope in gold coast femmes (Read: they are actually cool).

So I use the rekindled hope to talk to some nearby girls.

Hope is removed.

New venue! Wooo this place is cool I’ve never been here before. Drink stealing mechanism is built from connected straws and put to use. This is very risky in a fisticuffs prone place like the Gold Coast, but I was getting too drunk and “I don’t give a fuck” to care. After all there was not much of my ego left free of bullet holes at this point. Nothing really came of it except a few smiles and glares from boyfriends.

Rock music clubs are abandoned in favour of shuffle friendly music at my request. Cover charges are shunned upon by young men in search of alcohol, so a free place is found.

Wow, Hotties! You look friendly! Nope, you aren’t. So do you! Wrong again, pal. Ugh. SingleWing sends me into some sets, before waiting a minute or two and entering with the same line. LOL. Start spinning and inning and informing girls of their adorableness. It didn’t take long to realise that if I do not get a makeout in less than 20 seconds out of this, I have NO idea what to do. Experimentation occurs, failure results, no answers found.

Shock and Awe on hottest girl in club. Check.
Having a dance circle formed around me. Check.
Approaching sets I already got blown out of. Check.
Going direct on girls in 2 sets. Check. (Something I haven’t done yet)
Apocalypse. Check.
Realise every potential girl in this club has been exhausted. Check.

It’s after 4am, time for Maccas. On the food and transport-locating journey, we chat to some weed smoking kiwis, accuse girls of various atrocities and find pieces of my ego all over the ground. The girls seem to be a bit more friendly in the street. Not as hot, though. Kiwi’s don’t like it when you quote the whale clip non-stop.

Conclusion: This night reminded me how much Saturday night on the Gold Coast makes me want to hold hands and cuddle up under a blanket on a winters night. And by that I mean cut my heart out with a spoon.

Yeah, I’m pretty weird.

Sunday night…. I was absolutely fucked, feeling the sleep deprivation and didn’t want to go out. It turns out CherishGirl, Kbomb and KarateKid were at the pub down the road so I unstuck myself from the desk chair and walked down. Nothing really of note except some American bird hating on me and then swapping over to the nice side, so I’ll cut to the chase.

CherishGirl spent the night again. Except at some point during the kissy kissy I decided I was getting laid. The old trusty “Should i get a condom”. She said “I don’t know” which I took as a yes. As I’m putting it on she says “Uh uh, you’re on top first”, which I took as a definite yes.

I should be happy, cause it’s been a long time comin’. But just as I expected, it was incredibly uneventful and uninteresting. She just doesn’t love sex enough. What the fuck, who doesn’t love sex?

Girls are funny. Drought broken. Whoop whoop.

Looking forward to the next soul destroying Gold Coast mission….

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