TRASHED!

The past week has been a bit mental work wise and that's my excuse for lack of updates. I've also drank copious amounts of alcohol, I saw a very Z-list celeb and been generally, a shell of a woman.

Had last Wednesday off so went drinking with Jon and ended up in local gay haunt for a Tuesday night in Glasgow. It wasn't pretty. There's a reason why a school night is sometimes not the best to go out on. You're surrounded with unemployed, wannabe unemployed, students or people on long term sick - none of the categories mentioned are particulary appealing but Jon and I drank our merry way round town for a bit and shook our shammy with Glasgow's finest. It was actually quite a good night and good to cut loose for a while. I still can't believe that people go out 7 nights a week. I lasted all of three months doing that before not only did the purse strings give in but so did my will to live. Maybe it's a gay man's preconception that because generally they don't come out til late teens/early twenties that they've somehow missed out on some wild times and try to recapture this by going out on the ran dan every night that our Gay God of Disco sends. Either that or some people are just total party hags and can't get enough of being uber sociable.

In 1998/1999 I came out and did my fair share of 7 nights a week but being the lightweight champion of feathers, I lasted a few months and had to give up the ghost and admit defeat. And realistically, how much can go on in any night that I want to be involved in? I hadn't planned on going out much this past weekend but went to a works shindig on Friday with a few people and went to a bar that had Z list Irish blagger/rough diamond, Fran Cosgrave doing a PA. Fran opened a nightclub in London and could pass for a vampire in Buffy - he also slept with a few tabloid tramps and appeared on various reality tv shows. Reality came to Glasgow on Friday when countless chicks threw their huge chests at him in a pub in a rather sluttish way that you knew that most of them stampeded to the toilets to remove their knickers and use some Femme Fresh in preparation for Fran!

On Sunday I ventured to the pub to escape the World Cup fever that gripped the nation. My mother cried when she saw some of the English team cry at the end of their match - imagine my shock and horror when Cameron and I walked into Dels to find the place teeming with lesbians in football strips - damn those dykes!! I cheered and jeered and ogled at some of the sexy players on display and headed home pretty sharp with a glow in my stomach thanks to the alcohol. Now I may sound like an alcoholic as I have tanked the drink 3 nights out of the past 6 but it was totally medicinal and totally good fun aswell.