Haunted by the past ..

Sadly, I suffered from laryngitis this passing weekend, so I have no mentionable stories to entertain you with. So what I'm going to do is recount a night out that I've tried to forget, but as part of my awareness meetings, Ive been encouraged to speak about everything horrendous and hot to allow myself to vent.


As my girlfriend and I walked through the beer garden of our local club, we knew that we should have rang for backup because this night was going to get nasty. I felt slightly bad because as we were making our way towards the cocktail list, the men in the room had their eyes temporarily fixed upon us, which cost them to miss a massive live sporting moment on the big screen outside (as well as a trip to some physio for their fractured necks) ..... oops!
So we've got our drinks and we've sussed out a good people watching position between the dance floor and the bar (which we now know is a complete danger zone). Our eyes instantly locked on to a poor girl who had about 2 bottles for a warm up drink while she got dressed as she considered that polka dots, see-through lace and stripes could possibly work together. Not to mention the oily, lanky hair and loss of dance skills she was displaying. My eyes were amused at what I was seeing, but I was disturbed when I saw she had jelly legs due to the alcohol intake and she was now 'wobbling' her ankles around in her heels. Eeeeesh get that girl a wheelchair please. As we were placing bets as to when the ankles would crack, a funky smell started to waft towards my nostrils and I instantly recognised the stench that would develop. Never would I tolerate being 'crop dusted' on, so tapped the guilty owner of the mass bombing on the shoulder and asked him if he had committed the crime, expecting him to look dumbfounded. Instead he simply admitted to it and was later trying to make my friend and I admit we loved it. AHHHH no, sorry buddy, even if my honey Bradley Cooper dropped a missile like that I wouldn't adore it. Fartman started shamelessly flirting with my girlfriend (because I guess he got bored of talking to my back) and thought it was appropriate to swing her over his shoulder and make the way through the crowd like Tarzan and his Jane! Uggh, tempers flared and as I rescued my girl, we knew it would be a long night.
Now time for some serious dance moves! We were loving our co-ordination to the beats and apparently so did another little fan club near us! Two males moved in on us (one who we labelled Bob Sinclair) and disturbed our dancing :( and he thought he was 'it and a bit' in his 1996 gym instructor muscle tee with his 'dad' jeans in tow. His accomplice cracked the line 'Do you come here often?' and I wanted to die from embarrassment. I didn't know whether to help the poor guy with some pick up etiquette or light a candle and write a eulogy for his future sex life. Little Bob Sinclair pops up and says 'girls, if you don't want us to hang around you, just say so' which we nodded to and then he followed with 'Ill just stand here and pretend I'm dancing with you girls'. Oh My God, someone please tell me how many seconds can follow before you re allowed to laugh in this guys face. We made a subtle bolt to a quiet lounge in the corner while we waited for the next hawk to swoop in. 
Two songs later, the eagle has landed and we have our next victim. His name was Georgio and he reeked to high heaven of cheap, bulk branding chemist aftershave and if I had lit a naked flame, I'm pretty sure he would've incinerated. It was such a lovely experience having him tell me about how his mum would be so proud if he presented us (both) to her, because one could cook and one could clean! What a gem and if that wasn't tempting enough, the fact he was on acid and chewing his face off in my ear was the real deal breaker. Who did this freak arrive with?? Oh I see, the weirdo with him that couldn't stop looking at us, meanwhile his girlfriend (who was the birthday girl), was trying to sway his attention with a classy lap dance. Yes, that's right, those words do NOT go together.
Now as the night was just starting to get back on track with our hotness on the dance floor, another cokehead was having an amazing time breakdancing in his own little world and then locked eyes on prey that he thought was rightly his (this prey being me). HOW WRONG HE WAS. He bounces over towards me and my friend who are dancing up a storm (with security guards watching closely) and i quickly think ahead and spot a hen's night group to direct him over to. As I touch him on the shoulder, he turns to me, grabs my ass, picks me up with my dress riding right up haigher than the empire state building leaving my royal ass exposed. I scream, give him a swift 'mum' slap across the head and before i know it, cokehead is being removed by the OHA security. He gets sentimental and makes a gesture with both hands over his heart pumping towards me, which I rebut with my fist clenched over my forehead. Even though it wasn't my finest moment, it got me alot of respect on the dancefloor and more fans coming over to ensure I was okay and waiting for my reaction to be laughter and not tears, before they too, .... lost it! 


Ok, so I think we're done here... breathe Candy ....breathe


xxxxx Candy