18.05.2007 - A Date That Shall Live in Legends

Last night, was the night of nights. A series of unrelated events that began over 20years ago conspired to produce a convergence between Oli's 21st birthday, and the highlight of the Sunderland Social calender; the May Ball.

Events began at around 1725, when I recieved a phone call from Robbie informing me that Oli's party had commenced several minutes earlier, and that I was to get over there pronto. Unfortunatly I was in the middle of cooking dinner, and had not yet had a shower. Obviously I was ill prepared to go to a pre-pre-pre party. (I told you it was the night of nights).

I quickly downed my pasta, and had a shower before suiting up. Then it was off to Oli's for the first in a series of gatherings, each of which would in more people joining our band of brothers. I gave Oli his present (Band of Brothers [Oli is actually illiterate, but it has some pictures for him to look at]). We then had the first set of pictures taken. Every possible combination imaginable. Just the boys. Just the girls. One of the boys with one of the girls (there were three boys and two girls, so there were 3 to the power 2 combinations. My maths isn't good enough to work it out, but it seemed like there were a lot)

Then it was off to Flat 38, to link up with the rest of our posse. Cue more pictures, in even more combinations. Oli had another cake, and more presents, and then it was off to Bonded. Once at Bonded, Robbie and I decided to do our patented party trick for ridiculously formal occaisions - put Smack My Bitch Up on the Juke Box. Unfortunatley the Juke Box wasn't working, so we just had to guess what songs to put on by plugging in random numbers. Regardless, soon the bar was throbbing to the pulsating beat of Prodigy's magnus opus.

Unfortunatley, my commando mission led to loss of position at our table - Netballers had begun to arrive, and my seat was in their hands. Cue botched attempt to retake my seat when one of them goes to the bar, followed by mass abuse from the remaining netballers. I always embarress myself in front of those girls. Whether I'm throwing up all over them or stealing their seats, I always end up looking like a complete retard.

More photo's were taken here. I made a quip that some peoples believe that when one has one's
photo taken, part of one's soul is stolen, and that at this rate I wouldn't have a soul left by the end of the evening. It garnered a laugh. She blatently wants me. (I hope)

By now it was time for the main event. Cinderella, you shall go to the ball. Except now it was raining. I offered my jacket to one of the girls, but was declined. Presumably she was already wet from being around me, and felt that the rain would make little difference.

Once at the ball (which was just around the corner, and so we didn't get very wet after all) there were, surprise surprise, more photos. Then it was off to see the hypnotist. Our attempts to get Oli on stage were thwarted by his lack of adventurous spirit, though he did have to stand up in front of everyone. Unfortunately, the hypnotist was crap, and I walked out in boredom, along with most of the audience. According those who stayed behind, he got better later on. I find this hard to believe. Quite why the Students Union feel obliged to keep hiring him for every function (he's played Fresher's Week every year I've been here) is beyond me.

Back downstairs, and Oli managed to pull, and then blow it spectacularly by refusing to dance with her, and then wandering off without getting her number, or even saying he was leaving. I worry about that boy, I really do. Selected quotes involve her claiming her name was Maude ("D'ya think it's a sexy name?", "Yeah, sure!") and her response to my being a lawyer being "Oh, I'm in marketing. I'm not really doing anything for the planet", which kinda implies that I am doing something for the planet, which I'm not really (except ruining it with my decadent Western Imperialist lifestyle).

By now the rest of our squad were returning from the "Comedy" Hypnotist, with tales of just how awful he was. As I said earlier, I'm glad I got out when I did. We decided to go sit at the couches, and partake in some inane banter for a while. We had a few more photo-ops here, but it was all just casual, spur of the moment stuff really - none of the regimented grind of earlier. Oli got decorated by stars, which was amusing. See pictures on Facebook for proof.

By now, it was time for Rogue Traders! Finally my chance to stand just a few feet away from Izzy and perve on her. I quickly scarpered upstairs to take my place as near the front as possible, so as to get the best possible view. Luckily I wasn't the only one with an obsession for Izzy, as the girls were already up there.

Unfortunately, Izzy was nowhere near as good looking in real life as she was on the TV, although there is something slightly erotic about a girl having sweat dripping down her cleavage. Only slightly though. They played about 10 tracks, all but one of which I managed to get recorded (copyright infringment ahoy!). Most of them I'd never heard before, although I don't have their album and they said that some of them were new, which explains that. They played Voodoo Child, which was the only one I wanted to hear really. Pretty good stuff though, and one of the better acts I've seen this year. Nowhere near as good as Lily Allen that's for sure.

After Rogue Traders, me and Oli went on a wander to find his missing Cigar (no such luck, unfortunately). On our meanderings we saw the Hypnotist from earlier on, propping up the bar and telling anyone that would listen his exciting stories. (they probably weren't exciting really, but never mind)

By now it was getting late, and so it was time to relocate to Glass Spider. We managed to commandeer the Uni bus (which I've probably used more times in the past week than I have all year), thus saving money on taxis which we could put to better use on booze. We arrived at Glass Spider safe and sound, and who should we see, but Glenn, with his sexy new Finnish girlfriend. Oli was visibly delighted to see him, bounding over with such vigour that he literally floored him. It took all our efforts to manage to persuade him to come back inside.

After that not much else happened, I was pretty drunk and felt sleepy, so the hilarity was almost over. We ended up trying to get into the Casino (see previous blog entry) but I was too young, and Milhouse was too drunk (neither of which was actually true, but we all know how useless Gala Casino staff are. Since we couldn't get in, we ended up just going home.

I went to back to my place to get some booze, but I ended up falling asleep, and so missed out on the rest of the evening's festivities. And that is the tale of the May Ball. A night of passion, intrigue and general drunken hilarity. Apologies for taking so long to get this online, I have been busy. Tune in sometime later this week to hear the tale of the Final Fling.

We hate Gala Casino...

Yes. Yes we do. Details will follow when I'm awake enough (i.e. sober enough) to write a proper blog entry, but suffice to say that until then I advise all of my loyal readers (yes, both of you) to boycott them in favour of other casinos.
I.e. ones that don't use the excuse "I'm only doing my job" and "It's the law!" For the record, IAAL (well I will be when I get my results back, and until then I'm still more of a lawyer than Register Jockies who work the night shift at a crappy casino), and they are wrong, and I will report back tomorrow with statutes (and cases, if there are any) to support this. Cos that's what we legal types do - we destroy people who are too stupid to know what the law is (and they are stupid. And possibly corrupt, they certainly didn't deny it when I accused them).

In any case, I would like to thank everyone who joined me in tonights spontaneous boycott of Gala Casino. Y'all are invited to my sort-of birthday next Friday.


Except Phil, who is boring, and whom none of us actually like.

LOL Birmingham!

A 4 bedroom house for £53,000? Bargain! It's probably cheap cos it's near the Colour Factory, and we all know how often that thing explodes, and noone wants to live near it.

Oh, it's cheap because the advert's 25 years old. You crazy Brummies with your 25 year old newspapers :)

I think I've made a rather good career choice

SO. It seems more people are seeking legal advice than ever before. As a would-be solicitor, this is extremely good news. Everyone wants to get into a growth industry, and with a bit of luck in a few years time I'll be well placed to take advantage of this booming industry.
Don't worry tho, I won't forget the little people. Y'all can come visit me on one of my many yachts. Maybe I'll even let you borrow one of my many sports cars (not you Oli, you can't be trusted with an automobile. I'll lend you Pony Girl to ride around on instead. I hear she's remarkably resilient and difficult to break)

Don't Worry, He's not in the Queue!

SO. I was in the queue at Greggs today, and there was a slightly crazy man in front of me. He was bald, which always makes me suspicious. Suddenly, out of nowhere, an equally crazy looking lady appeared. She sprinted (sprant?) towards the gentleman in front of me, and scooped him up, saying "Don't worry, he's not in the queue". The two of them soon vanished into the crowds.
When I'd got my drink, I returned to Oli, Glenn & Jenni, and asked if they had witnessed it. It transpired that the boys had remained oblivious to the whole thing. Had I been imagining things? Was I finally going mad? No. It seems. Jenni had seen it as well, restoring my faith in my sanity.

In other news:

• Oli visited every shop in Sunderland in a vain hunt for clothes, only to return to the first shop we went to to buy the first things he'd seen, three hours earlier.
• I ordered my Dinner Jacket for the Ball (I'm still looking for a date, ladies)
• I bought some milk. That isn't newsworthy, but it does neatly round off the story.