Tuesgay Party

An obvious thing to do when preparing to have a clubnight is to go to as many other people’s clubnights as possible. This explains why I found myself in yet another lesbian basement bar in Soho, on a Tuesday night. C.R.A.Z.Y.

I should add that it was a friend’s birthday too, so added reason to break my holy Tuesday tradition of football and just one pint.

As a result of my not-so-wanton midweek boozing I have found myself a DJ lesson. Result. So, in theory, come friday night, I will be considerably more prepared and a fair amount less terrified about the prospect of playing thirty superfantastic songs in quick succession IN PUBLIC. Or maybe not…

Another highlight of the night out was the inevitable night bus ride home some time after two in the morning. Having been forced to get on the feral number 29 bus after waiting 15 minutes for a non-existent K-Town Express (134), I was treated to a hippie chorus of Oasis’ Wonderwall (a terrible song) lead by a rather grubby trustafaran lesbian with a partially shaved head.

I’m not sure why she needed to circulate her filthy hooded hempy patchwork coat around the entire bus between each chorus. (In fact, I’m not sure what any of them were doing so far away from their communal teepee). Maybe it was because everyone she and her dirty spliff shuffled past had facial expressions of absolute repulsion. Rule of thumb – avoid people who, by choice, remain standing on the 29.

Had I not been listening to the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs album at top volume, I’d have struggled to resist the urge to abuse the glassy-eyed little earth goblin playing the guitar. Lucky for him and his recycled sandals, he wasn’t louder than Karen O.

Who says it’s a Dull Life, Karen O?


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