My alleged Boyfriend?

So for my birthday I had a party.

I invited all my friends and Garrulo (kind of) but not Beardman, definitely not.

It was going well, everyone was having a good time and Garrulo arrives with his Italian friend (I think she fancies him but that's another story). They are already both fairly drunk and within a short while I.F. has passed out so I put her to bed in my room.

I start off fairly cold towards Garrulo as I didn't exactly invite him, I invited his friend and assumed that he would come too. But as the evening wore on and he entertained my friends with his singing and semi-naked dancing we spoke more and he told me that he wanted something serious with me instead of this semi-on/off-fling we've been having.

He says this quite often, and I always say no, let's not rush blah blah. My normal commitment-phobe discourse but on this occasion after saying no a few times, he gave me an ultimatum - I want something serious with you, otherwise nothing.

Hmm. I like garrulo, he is crazy but I don't want to not see him. So maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the birthday euphoria, whatever it was I agreed.

I also disappeared into my housemate's bedroom to consummate the decision.

The party wound down and we (Garrulo and I) got into my bed with I.F., don't worry, I'm not that shameless, we didn't do anything more.

The next morning Garrulo was a little funny with me but I guessed his hangover was on a par with mine so thought nothing of it.

Over the next few days I received daily phone calls and messages and so I guess that allegedly he is now my boyfriend although I haven't seen him since and I'm now away for a few days.

Worm Doubts

Looking back it was perhaps foolish to think I could "love" someone after knowing them for a few hours..

All I can think of is the stubby toes..

And he's coming over to Barcelona for a job interview.

Aggggggggh

Why do I always get bored so soon?

Bad news

Went to a friend's house party at the weekend. I asked Garrulo if he wanted to come but fortunately he didn't make it in time.. We met later at a club where I discovered he was totally plastered and insisted on taking clothes off, on the dancefloor.. hmm

I ended up going home with him in a taxi, now I don't have a great recollection of the journey back but at one point I seem to recall him slapping me. Not cool. I think I said something to offend him but slapping me is not the answer. Nor is slapping anyone. This guy has issues.

Stood up

Well I've been in Valencia for a couple of days on work and on my return arranged to see Garrulo. He said he was working late but would come and collect me from my house and we'd go for dinner.

He called me a couple of times to say he'd be later than expected but in the end he stood me up.

Bastard.

Twats

Men are peculiar aren't they.

I was with Beardman last night, I know I know, but there I was. Anyway, when we're together alone I really feel that he likes me and wants to do other stuff, stuff that involves clothes and places that aren't bedrooms or sofas.. but then after not hearing from him for days, weeks, months I start to figure that maybe it was just man chat to get into my knickers again.

I had a nasty experience with a guy a couple of weeks ago. I'm in a club and a guy starts up a conversation with me, I don't have any particular desire to speak to this person but humour his nationalistic Catalan rant taking particular interest in his theory that Catalan men only use foreign girls for a quick shag and a bit of fun (hmm, could this be Beardman's logic) but if they are looking for a stable partner then they will always go for a Catalan girl. I don't know why he decided to impart this information to me, especially after finding out that I was a Guiri (Spanish word for foreigner) but he did and I listened before becoming bored and a little bit annoyed with his discourse and excused myself to go and dance.

I'm dancing away and said guy approaches me. I continue to dance, he tries to kiss me, I push him away and ask what the fuck he thinks he's doing. He replies that he thought I wanted to kiss him, I give a look of disgust move to another part of the dancefloor and continue dancing. He comes over again, grabs my head with both hands and tries to kiss me. I protest and push him away shouting some kind of insult before hurriedly leaving the club in shock.. feeling a little violated by his behaviour.

I was in the VIP area of a top club in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world. But how many other men have the same opinion as him... Is this a view widely held by Catalan men? and does this explain why they are such fuckers when it comes to us unsuspecting guiri's?

My other thought regarding Beardman was that maybe he had a girlfriend. So when he left me sleeping when he went off to work, I did a little investigatory work to find evidence.

Bathroom - Mostly male/unisex products although did find some intimate cleansing gel. I thought only women used this?

Living room - Earrings and a Necklace!! Dun Dun DUH.. Could be his sister's or a friends.. but why would they have taken them off.

Unfortunately this is where my role as Inspector Gadget came to an end as I was late for work..

So the question still is: Why is Beardman such a twat?

Ho hum

Met a guy at the Kaiser Chiefs concert the other day. Another ex-pat new to Barcelona, swapped numbers so we could hang out one time.. Nothing more.

Hooked up on Friday night for a bit of partying, ended up back at his for some food and blah blah blah.

I don't think it will happen again.. Now we can quite happily be friends without any sexual tension cos we already have all that out of the way. And there wasn't any spark between the sheets anyway.

I do think he'll make a good drinking buddy though.

Grr

This weekend I had some friends visiting. As usual, I took them out and about, my favourite bars, nightclubs etc.. and who should I bump into but Beardman, who was very very drunk and didn't really seem all that excited to see me! How rude!

I had already told my friend that if I were to see him, I would be cool, composed and distant, yeh well that didn't go to plan.. and now Beardman probably thinks I'm chasing him

Grr.

Shameless Hussy? Yes I am

Well since my little depressive stage in January I have been on a roll on the man front.

Other than simultaneously dating (if it can be called that) Beardman and Garrulo, I also pulled on a ski weekend, met Worm, experienced my first Scandinavian lover and had a cheeky snog with a hot guy. Good work if I do say so myself.

I'm now off to England for a few days to take some time off.. or will I..

Someone else gets all the fun

My friend was over for a few days with the express intention of experiencing a Ninja Wenzday!

Well, I couldn't let him down so I grabbed some recruits and hit the town for a few bevvies.

Unfortunately my friend is allergic to alcohol and this has always seemed to make up such a large part of Ninja Wenzday.. although in the end he didn't seem to mind and we all ended up going home to my 38 yr old colleague's apartment for drinks. (By we I am referring to my colleague, My friend, my colleague's Swedish friend that I slept with a few weeks ago..

My friend ended up in said colleague's bed and swedish guy and I ended up trying to sleep on the sofa. No hanky panky.

I think judging from the smile on his face and the fact that he spent the rest of his time in Bcn shacked up with my colleague - my friend had a good time :)

Cupid strikes

Wow!

I actually think I've met a nice guy, like a really nice guy! I'll call him Worm. (Long story)

We met through mutual friends at a karaoke bar of all places. I thought he was quite hot. He saw me do my debut of "Linger" by the Cranberries very badly. But he still spoke to me after. Good sign.

I had already arranged to meet another friend to see the awesome Eric Morillo at Pacha so unfortunately could not stay long enough to see him sing, although we swapped numbers and he agreed to meet me there.

Unfortunately he couldn't get in for whatever reason so we arranged by text to meet the next day for a date! A real date! Check me out.

The date was sooo nice, we went and sat on the beach and chatted, and looked into each other's eyes, and let the tension build up before we kissed. We then walked along the beach and made promises to see each other again soon (he had to go back to Germany that afternoon) and I think it might be love.

The only thing is - he has stubby fingers and toes. I am quite parcial to long slender fingers (shallow, yes, deal with it), maybe I won't notice.

Ahhhh.

Carnaval 2006

Once again it was Carnaval in Barcelona..

Walking through the streets as a a cowboy I found myself passing fairys, ninjas, other cowboys, gangsters.. it was very surreal..

Like last year I wanted to go to the Sitges Carnaval parade but unfortunately as I had pulled the calf muscles in my right leg and was unable to walk I had to sack this off in favour of staying in and making pancakes.. there's always next year..

Kaiser Chiefs

On Saturday Gracey and I were VERY excited about going to see the Kaiser Chiefs in concert at a giant club called Razzmatazz here in Barcelona.

During the supporting acts (We are Scientists - also very good) I could hardly contain my excitement and thought I would have to go home, I perhaps should have because when they came on stage to the music of Dire Straits the crowd went WILD. Being at the front we were definitely at risk of acquiring a few new injuries.

The lead singer was amazing! In the song prior to I predict a riot he leapt into the crowd and ran through the thousands of people to the back of the room when he then crowd surfed to the front to the opening strains of the craziest song ever.. this was unfortunately when i decided to drop something and managed to fall over and get trampled in my quest to pick it back up.. Luckily two guys pulled me from the floor so I could continue to jump like a crazy thing.. higher than any Cacalan... however in doing so I also managed to pull calf muscle in my leg.. worth it? Hell yes.

Gorgeous Siblings

So this weekend I discovered that my work colleague has the most gorgeous brother ever. EVER.

He was visiting with his friend and my colleague had asked if I would like to join them on a night out. Why not, I thought, while cleverly devising a plan. We were to frequent the same nightclub where I generally seem to come accross Beardman. Having not heard from Beardman in a while I thought it would do him good to see me on the arm of another guy. My colleague also thought this was a good plan as she was to use the friend to make her love interest jealous. This was before I met the brother - I just wanted to be seen with a guy - not left with a desire to eat him alive! I think my mouth gaped open when I first saw him and all plans sailed out of the window until I found out my colleague had already told him about the plan. Damn.

It was a strange kind of a night, lots of champagne was consumed and I was fairly drunk. I didn't see Beardman but I did see Manu (a guy I tried to chat up unsuccessfully a few weeks ago), I tried once again to get in there but unfortunately his friend, the circus clown, fancied me. I've chatted with the circus clown a few times before and in fact asked him about his friend Manu when Manu hasn't been there, so obviously knowing that I fancied Manu I didn't think it was fair of him to stake his claim thus not allowing Manu to give me his number. which I am sure he wanted to do.

So there I am, eyeing up Manu whilst dancing with a circus clown having orignally arrived with my colleague's gorgeous brother, who I wanted to use to make Beardman jealous.

Who gets the snog?

Answers on a postcard

El Garrulo

So man number 2 currently is el garrulo (chav more or less in English).

They don't really have chavs as such in Spain but upon seeing him or observing his behaviour it is hihgly likely he would be classed as Garrulo.

Characteristics of garrulos

Boys

• Gold Jewellery
• Tattoos
• Souped up Seat Ibiza that usually blares out "flamenquito" style music
• A tendency to say "Que pasaaaaaa nen" (Neng is a TV garrulo who has this as his catchphrase)
  
• A two-toned hairstyle (mullet optional)

Garrulo Girls

• Gold Jewellery - even more than boys
• Tatoos
• Boyfriends with souped up (tuned in Spanish) Seat Ibizas
• Scraped Back Ponytail
• Extremely tight, low cut trousers regardless of body shape or size
• Tight, short zip up tops regardless of body shape and size

What are you doing with a Garrulo? I hear you cry. Well, for some peculiar reason I find myself strangely attracted to them, Mr C was also a bit of a Garrulo and although he does not fulfil all of the requirements he fills enough for me to stereotype him in this way.

• Gold Jewellery - Not necessarily gold but does own a variety of chains and bracelets.
• Tatoos - Hell Yes. A huge panther entwined with a woman accross his back.
• Souped up car - not so much. Flamenquito music - all the way
• Que pasa nen? and other garrulo vocabulary

Well, love is blind or so they say, although I do wish to point out that I am not in love.. We bonded over our fellow passion for a flamenquito artist who I though no-one had heard of. I was wrong. Anyway don't have much time so more on this soon!

PS: Photo shows typical garrulo, not the garrulo.

Beardman

Beard man.

So Saturday night I was out partying as usual and for some reason I was very very very drunk. I think we'd been to a leaving party, then to a bar with my boss then on to a club.. the same club as normal.

The previous night, while out with my new housemate Chuck and another male friend, I had ended up meeting a very nice and good looking guy in the club while trying to entertain myself as they fought over the same girl. Unfortunately when it came down to obtaining telephone number information I had managed to crash and burn but ever hopeful I was thinking that there was some remote possibility of him perhaps being there again.

Unfortunately by the time we got to the club the events of the night begin to blur slightly for me.. I remember seeing the hot guys friends and passing on some kind of message.. I also remember dancing with a number of randoms.

What I didn't really remember was dirty dancing with some guy and kissing him.. I was informed of these events on Monday although I had found it very strange that I had been receving text messages from a random guy.. I had clearly given him my number.

So after asking for a description of the guy, we between us, managed to ascertain that he was somewhat taller than me, well dressed, with short dark hair and disturbingly.. a beard.

We agreed to meet up one night in the week for a drink as he happened to be out with his friends and I was out with my housemate and the michelin chef but there was only so long I could hang around in a bar waiting for the guy and so we left. The second I leave he calls, and tells me that he refuses to chase after me all night! the cheek. I was getting panicky anyway because I had NO idea what the guy looked like apart from what I had been told and people's beer goggles are hardly a reliable source of information

On Friday I agreed to meet my work colleague, and we ended up in the club.. lo and behold, beardman is there... I am once again totally wankered.. but I remember leaving the club with him and him trying to convince me to go home with him but I made up some ridiculous excuses and insisted in being dropped off at my own house, which he was totally fine with and then sent me some message to say how nice it was seeing me bla bla and how he'd like to sleep with me in his arms.

Anyway on Sunday I heard from him again and he asked if I would like to go round and watch a DVD. Obviously I was well aware that this was merely a ploy to get into my knickers but I didn't really give a damn.

So I went over to his place and met his cat and .. well .. we ended up in bed having the most amazing sex ever.

In the morning he left me asleep when he went to work and I was awoken by his crazy cat licking my nose! It was very cute.

So I went off to work and decided that I would text him to say I'd had a nice night etcetc.. which I did..and then I waited... and waited...... and waited............... for a reply which was not forthcoming for THREE whole days and then only said something along the lines of.. My phone was broken, have just seen your message, I had a good time too

MEN!!!

Anti-Valentine's

Another Valentines Day - Another day without cards or flowers but not to worry.. I at least had a plan!

My colleague and I had been invited for dinner with my boss, his wife, and some friends of his who were here for the GSM conference.

We started in a really nice tiny restuarant eating delicious food in the wine cellar as there was not enough space for the ten of us in the rest of the place.

I was sat between a guy that producers short porn and horror films and the editor of a travel guide.. by the end of the meal I had got myself 2 new jobs...

Contributing to Travel Guide Barcelona as bar guide
Writing Porn for women.

All in a night's work.

Non-Skiing Continued

After around 2 hours the train slowly pulled up and we all (now freezing, damp and covered in snow) piled on. The train pulled away inch by inch and then shortly after reversed inch by inch. This happened several times before it came to a complete stop and the driver and his wingman appeared from their booth with a meaningful look in their eyes. They surveyed the carriage and approached one of the snowboards leaning against the carriage wall. The driver picks it up and asks

"Who's is this?"

One of our group replied that it was his

"I need it, don't mind do you." replied the driver and with that he opened the train door and jumped off into waist deep snow, and then, I kid you not, he proceeded to use the snowboard to shovel snow from in front of the train.

It had snowed soo heavily during the previous few hours and the lack of trainage had meant that the track was covered in deep snow making it nigh on impossible for the train to get through, hence the reversing forwarding motion to try and cut through the snow.

Well after about 10 minutes of shovelling the driver decided that this wasn't going to work (no shit) so he announced to the train his new plan... He would reverse as far back as he could and then accelerate to top speed in his hope to push through all the snow. We're all going to die - was my one and only thought. A miracle occurred and we somehow, after a very frightening journey, arrived back!

We then had a 20 minute walk back to the cottages freezing, soaking, tired and generally in a bad mood. At this point half the group bought food at a local shop and the other half went for dinner. We later met up at the cottages for an evening of karaoke and drunkeness. Which was very fun! I made my karaoke debut and it has to be said - I loved it, once up there I did not want the spotlight off of me.. this could also be due to copius amounts of rum and coke by who knows.

At 3am I decided I would go for a bit of late night sledging. One of the guys, known to the group as jetman .. can't remember his real name.. decided to come with me.. and well, often in midnight sledging one thing leads to another and we ended up very heavy petting in a doorway of a nearby cottage and accidentally leaning on the doorbell. Oop..

The next day it was decided that after breakfast we would return to Barcelona as skiing was not an option.. In the evening we met up for some drinks as a final ending to the weekend and ended up in café real doing some crazy dance moves. Now, even though most people knew about the jetman thing it didn't stop most people coming up to me and telling me that I made a good match with J.T. (the amusing irishman), J.T. was also doing his share of flirting and dancing and somehow by the end of the evening we had managed to get separated from the rest of the group.

As we left the club and wandered around trying to find late night falafel, we were approached by the usual array of beer sellers, hookers and drug pushers. I wasn't after drugs but struck up a conversation with one such vendor as I noticed he had a bad of falafels and I wished to know where he had obtained them. Unfortunately his source was closed, but being a kind of generous fellow he donated 2 falafels to my cause.

Well, having lost the others, and his way back to his hotel, I invited him to my house where he turned out to be the NOISIEST person I have ever slept with. I thought he would wake all the neighbours not to mention my housemates... We did the obligatory swapping numbers thing but anymore of that and I think I would end up deafened.. and so that was the end of that.

Non-Skiing

I have just come back from a weekend of skiing.

To celebrate a friend's birthday a group of us spent the weekend din a village up in the Pyrenees for a ski weekend. 11 friends came over from the UK and approximately the same number of Barcelona ex-pats so it made for a good group.

On Friday afternoon we set off on our journey, quite a few people had told me that we had probably chosen the worst weekend ever to go skiing as a Siberian front was coming in causing freak weather conditions.. We debated the need for snow chains and finally decided to stop and buy them about half-way through our journey. They turned out to be a very good buy for as we reached the village the roads became thicker and thicker with snow which seemed to show no end of stopping..

The cottages where we would be staying were located about 1km up a windey hill which had no safety barriers.. We started to make our way up the hill with birthday boys friends following behind in a van and decided that it would be a good time to make use of the snow chains. We all piled out of the vehicles into 8 inch snow and attempted to attach the snowchains.. not as easy as it first appears but with the help of a chirpy irish chap, J.T., we finally got them on and made it to the cottages.

After bagsying rooms, it was time to get supplies. Freddy did not want to risk driving his car back down so we all piled in the back of the van and back down to the village we went.

Freddy had appointed me Amalgamisation Manager, a position I took very seriously, and made it my mission to integrate the three teams..

Team A - Barcelona Ex-Pats
Team B - Bday Boy's London Friends
Team C - Bday Boy's Home Friends

A swift beer in a local bar before shopping turned into a 6 hour binge exchanging google facts and eating vast quantities of eggs of the kinder variety. Tasty. Always a good way to start off amalgamistating!

Somehow we made it for dinner and then eventually back to the cottages, where on the way I was completely victimised and ended up flat on by back in the snow being pelted with giant snowballs from all sides with snow in my hat, gloves, socks, jumper.. etc etc

Warming up in front of the fire with a few more cheeky beverages we had a mexican wave. It was special.

Making it to bed at some point that evening a little worse for wear is not something I really remember.. Being woken up at the crack of dawn to go skiing I most unfortunately do.. Felt absolutely and utterly like 5 thousand cats had shat in my head yet I somehow I managed to get dressed, find drinking wine in the kitchen as there was no orange juice (?!) swallow half a piece of dry toast, and leave the house to enter the blizzard that was blowing outside. I was surprised to see Bday Boy, still in the house, muttering and cursing something about his gloves under his breath as we left... we had a very tiny time margin to catch the train up to the pistes and if he didn't hurry he would miss it.. but I let it slide..

We trudged down the hill and I managed to fall over exactly one time on the ice.. it hurt. BB then came sprinting past.. clearly having found the gloves he had earlier lost..

We made it to the station only to find out that our nearest pistes had been closed due to the weather. We now had the choice to go up to some other pistes slightly further away but the train there did not leave until 2 hours later.. 2 lost hours of sleep.. We whiled away the hours in a little café drinking coffee, water and whatever else would help me get over the hellish nightmare that was my hangover..

Eventually it was time to get the train up to La Molina. Bought our tickets, hung around on the platform.. the train was late.. this did nothing for BB's rage (yes he was still raging about his lost gloves). It arrived. We got on. And waited. The train did not go anywhere, apart from that it was like an oven. The heaters were so hot that one of guys actually managed to melt his snow boot!

The train set off and the scenery up to La Molina was amazing.. like scenes from Narnia.. Everything covered in inches of snow.. I did start to become concerned when I started seeing cars and vans dissappearing under snow drifts.. Once you get off the train you then have to get a bus up to the pistes..

Getting off the train and wading through the snow.. things did not look good..
We waited in the blizzard for what seemed like hours and just as we had decided to sack the whole idea off and spend the afternoon in a bar.. lo and behold.. the bus shows up... I am now torn between bus and bar... but finally end up on bus.

When we finally get there the snow is getting worse and worse and the conditions are pretty bad so the majority of us buy sledges! and spend a couple of hours having races!

The weather showed no signs of improving so we decided to head back lest we be stranded on the mountain overnight.. We arrived at the train station in plenty of time.. enough time to have a HUGE snowball war in the middle of the station.. for hours.. yet the train didn't arrive.. after about 90 minutes we became a little concerned about our situation.. stuck halfway up a mountain.. in the freezing cold.. with no way back.. hmm.

What were we going to do?

To be continued ...

Room 101 - things that would go in

1. Celery

2. Builders making noise before 11am. WRONG.

3. Blue Peter

4. Spiders, Cockroaches.. bugs in general.

5. People who make noise when eating.

6. Bananas.. bleugh.

Bad things I've done
Part One

1. I once snapped my sister's hair curling tongs in a fit of rage. I then tried to stick them back together and hid them under her bed.

2. I scratched my housemate's copy of Pro-Evo (a football game for the PS2 that boys are just obsessed with) with my keys... they were really being bad housemates..

3. I found out my boyfriend's password for his email and checked his emails relentlessly. When I found out he was cheating, I changed his password. Again and again and again and was delighted to read his emails to the email host as to why the password was changing all by itself.

One day in January...

So today I spoke to Stig.

I was going to write an entry entitled paranoia, but today I believe my suspicions to be founded

I have had my suspicions for some time that something happened between him and V, after all it was the night that we went out with him that she then disappeared for a week. I also found it strange that Stig suddenly started asking after V all the time, asking me questions etc. As well as this it was particularly odd that he “suddenly” seemed to know that I was seeing someone – even though I wasn’t. What Ireland and I had was not a relationship as such. But still. He knew.

There was also an occasion where I was meant to be going to a friend's for dinner yet Stig somehow knew that this would be cancelled, i.e. V was ill and wasn’t going.

Small things like that but a chain of events that led my brain into paranoia overdrive.

Neither of them answers their phones when the other doesn’t.

So we speak – I called him. He never calls me anymore, also strange considering his pre-christmas obsession he has suddenly lost all interest. Anyway we chat for a while about this and that and then he suddenly throws into the conversation

“So V’s going to stay in London”

“How do you know that?”

“We spoke”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we speak every now and then. On messenger. You know… chat”

Me (increasingly incredulous) and voice getting more high pitched: “Really??!”

“Yeah – You don’t have a problem with that do you?”

“No, no of course not. How did you have her email?”

“Oh she gave it to me”

“When?”

“One time”

“I see”

I quickly put an end to the conversation and am literally shaking with anger. Fuming does not even begin to describe how absolutely raging I am.

However, devious, sneaky, compulsive lying, two-faced, double-crossing bitch does begin to describe what I currently think of V.

Having told her everything about Stig, and having told Stig a lot of things that I wouldn’t want V to know that I have said, and knowing that they have clearly been in cahoots infuriates me beyond all belief. I cannot tolerate liars.

V made the biggest mistake of her life the day she crossed me. I will confront her when she returns – maybe some little morsel of truth will escape her lips, although I doubt it very much. A pathological liar doesn’t change its spots. And then I will have nothing more to do with her ever again. Or Stig. They can both fuck right off.

Having just watched Closer, I think “fucked-up slag” is an excellent description.

She was no longer a friend of mine the day she took Ireland home, but this, this just takes the biscuit.

I don’t hold many grudges but V has well and truly earned her place amongst the few I hold and maintain. I don’t hate her, she clearly has a disease, but I do not want anything more to do with her, and will suggest to her that I think that it is best that she never returns to Barcelona.

So, a couple of weeks later Stig calls me again. He wants to meet up. He tells me that he wants to be with me and that he knows I want to be with him too. Yes, it’s crazy. I do my best to blow him off nicely

“It’s just that I’m not in the right place to be with anyone right now”

“We’re not meant to be together, we always argue.. not a healthy basis for a relationship don’t you think?”

Any excuse I can think of but, he isn’t having any of it. I eventually escape.

A short time passes – a couple of days or weeks

Stig and I meet up again.

He has news.

“ I have something to tell you… I slept with V..”

“I know”

“How do you know that I slept with Virginia, my housemate”

He then spends the next 40 minutes playing mind games with me. First telling me that he slept with V, then denying it, then telling me he has slept with Virginia, then denying it. In the end I get annoyed and leave.

What happened next.

V returned from UK with her brother to collect her things. The night before she arrived I had finally managed to get a pub /quiz team off the ground and we had attended our first event at the Bristol Blue. Our team wins of course, but the victory is bitter sweet as after I reveal my latest Stig gossip Freddy tells me that the night of doom, Ireland did not sleep in the spare room as V had sworn to me, but in fact had slept in her bed with her. Of course, this only adds to my rage.

My next move is of course to call Ireland and find out exactly what the fuck happened that night. I am luckily in a position where I can happily believe that Ireland will never lie to me. He tells me that he honestly doesn’t know what happened as he was so hammered but is pretty sure nothing did happen. This placates me slightly but does not stop me from wanting to throw V into a pit full of snakes.

The next day I called Jack to see what he was up to and decided to go and meet him in Plaza San Jaume where he was playing a strange beanbag game with some random guys he picked up from the street, and V’s brother, which meant V was also there.. Not being one to like confrontation I endure her chitchat for a couple of minutes until she has to go to the bathroom and the second she has gone I sprint away to the pub where my –trusted- friend is working..

What should I do? I don’t know what to say? I feel sick with nerves. This is awful. I can’t bear it.

My friend does her best to console, counsel and advise me and just as I turn to face my fears, V walks in the door.

FUCK FUCK FUCK.

I can put it off for no longer and I ask her if I can have a word.

Me: Ahem. V, it has come to my attention that you have betrayed my trust and confidence and lied to my face. On more than one occasion. I need to tell you that I abhor liars and I am upset at your behaviour.

V: What do you mean?

Me: What do you think I mean?

V: It’s Stig isn’t it. We’re just friends! Nothing happened.

Me: Firstly it’s not just that. Secondly that’s not what I heard.

V: What did you hear? What has he said?

Me: Like I say it’s not just about Stig but I am shocked that you didn’t tell me you were in contact, for god’s sake.

V: I was trying to help him..

M: Why didn’t you tell me? I find it strange that you were in contact with someone that I was/am involved with and you don’t tell me, why would you do that if something wasn’t going on. And besides it’s not just that, I know you lied to my face about Ireland’s sleeping arrangements.

V: We didn’t do anything…

M: I do not giving a flying monkey whether you did or didn’t, I do not care, I told you at the time to tell me the truth and you lied. TO MY FACE. How can I trust someone that could be like that?

V: So.. what? That’s just it then. I could say stuff now but it would only be hurtful so I’m not going to. We clearly can’t sort this out so goodbye.

V walks off, I stand there gaping. I call Freddy and go for coffee to dissect the conversation – her absolute lack of shame or apology etc etc.

This is followed by angry calls from Stig. And surprisingly Jack who tries to convince me to forgive V.. she has clearly brainwashed him with her lies which infuriates me more as he doesn’t have a clue what happened.

We have to swap belongings so V comes to my apartment the following afternoon full of apologies etcetc. I listen, tell her I don’t hate her (I don’t) and smile and nod when she says she wants us to stay friends..

The truth is there is no way in hell we are remaining friends. I have lost all and total trust in her, I realised early on that she had a problem with lying, I just assumed she wasn’t lying to me and learnt the hard way.

Celebrating

After basically toning it down big style since New Year, I decided it was time for a party again and what better to get into the Fiesta Spirit than by celebrating my one-year anniversary! I wanted to make a day of it so a group of us headed to the iceskating rink on the Saturday afternoon to see how many bones we could break or fracture! I only fell over once so I did well, unlike Jack who caused endless pile ups tripping over small children here, there and everywhere.. I believe he fell over that many times that the ice-warden gave him a warning.. oh Jack.

In the evening I invited my friends over to mine for some drinks, where Jack gave a beautiful toast with a tea cup, we then headed off to my favourite bar where I truly celebrated by, first getting onto a table and dancing, then when bored decided to scramble somehow onto the bar with Gracie and Manhattan to do some more moves in a ridiculously short skirt.. not perhaps one of my better ideas! I then moved back to the table and promptly fell off sending drinks flying. class in a glass.

My New Year's Resolutions

1. Drink less
2. Give up smoking
3. and caffeine
4. and McDonalds
5. Only bother with men who I like as much, or more than Ireland and sticking to the 5-date rule.
   

So far 4 (ish) out of 5 are going well

oh and pass my driving test before August (when my theory runs out)

A change in the air

So after the surprise departure of Jeanette from the apartment... I now have a new housemate, Chuck.

Also a kraut, but he seems quite nice.. I haven't tried anything either.. big change from a year ago when I had bedded the Argentian within a week.

I have my eyes on a new victim - I think this is a good sign. 3 days ago I had sworn off men for life but tomorrow is another day and this one is tall, good looking, nice body, well dressed and apparently a nice person too.. this I shall find out for myself this evening when I plan to make my first attack at the anniversary drinks party tonight. Heh.

Chuck will only be staying for a month as Head Chicken likes to be.. just that.. the Alpha Male. So in February Lily will be moving in.. which I think will be nice.. as

1. I already know
2. I know she cooks well
3. and she's a nice person
4. but talks A LOT

better than Jeanette the nutcase in anycase.

It is amazing how many CRAP blogs are on this thing.. out of perhaps 45 random blogs I look at, there is perhaps one, if I am lucky, that is of any interest or amusement whatsoever.

At least mine has certain qualities.. you know like sex, obsession, love, "romance", friends, ninjas, betrayal, drugs.. so many excellent things that at least make it slightly more interesting than 99.9% of the blogs out there. jeez.

another thing that annoys me is that most of them are american.. i think americans must lead boring lives.

england. yeh.

NYE in Barcelona

Unfortunately because of the shitey weather in UK amongst other things, I was left with no plans for New Years and so decided to fly back to Barcelona earlier than planned with Jack!

After being thoroughly searched at the airport - when will I learn to pack less thus avoiding multiple layers of clothing and 23 million kilos of hand luggage no less - finally made it onto the plane and back to good old Barca.

Jack arrived home to find two french guys staying at his apartment - sons of a friend of his landlady so they all ended up coming over for dinner where we drank vast quantities of cava and then headed into Barcelona to my favourite Irish bar to visit Maisy, the poor unfortunate wench who was working on NYE...

There I found myself amongst many old and new friends and we all decided to head off to a club on Plaza Real and boogie, although I do not remember much of this.. though I have the photos to prove I was there!

I somehow made it home but not before first having a little sleep on the stairs of a bar.

Ninja Day

What a week..

After the disaster that was Sunday Night Cinema Trip.. I sort of feel better.. not one hundred percent, but better.

Mindy (a friend from UK) was here on Tuesday.. so I planned a BIG NIGHT TUESDAY

V backed out.. (she has been behaving very oddly lately, I hardly see her)

But Bob and Gracie were on form and came round to partake of the Don (sangria in a carton - special) at my place

Mindy was tired and not really in the mood but I dragged her out anyway.

Our first stop .. (after HC caught us grafittying (sp?) the lift) was, of course, Irish Bar..

Showed Mindy the infamous Ireland .. had a couple of cheeky ones.. then continued next door to Irish Bar 2.. where I showed Mindy the infamous England aka Dan. She preferred England.. no taste.

We had a couple of cheeky tequilas and wound up in our favourite club where we took over the dance floor once again.. by about 3 Mindy was flagging so we popped her in a taxi and the three of us set off to club No 2..

What a place.. went upstairs and they were playing all the cheese! We decided (as always) to ask for Tiffany.. and they had it.. so we just went for it with the requests.. Chesney, Ric Astley, Time Warp..

Unfortunately they closed the room early so we had to go downstairs to the hardcore house dance room where Bob danced away with his goggle glasses on..and the excellent cheese DJ came and joined us.

After tiring of that we made our way to our favourite bar for breakfast.. and lo and behold.. who should we bump into on the way.. but the Irish bar staff just getting out of work.. including Ireland.

This is where it started to go wrong...

At the bar we all ordered in breakfast, we were all very drunk and Gracie soon gave up and went home. It sort of became a challenge between Bob and Myself to see who could stay the longest, who would be the ultimate winner?

Meanwhile Erica (Ireland's workmate and housemate) came and sat on my lap and decided to warn me off Ireland.. saying she thought it was disgusting the way he treated women, she could see that I liked him but that I could get someone better etc.. which I thought was sweet, mainly as she doesn't normally speak to me. ever. I think we might be friends now. She was also going on about E and E... saga.. another time maybe..

At the same time, Ireland was flirting, sort of, with me, but also holding hands with the German girl that I really don't like. In the end I could hardly stand it anymore, and after declaring myself the winner as Bob had passed out I called a truce. I just couldn't be around him doing that.. why are men such idiots?

I was so upset as I left, crying in the taxi home, I decided that it would be best for me not to see Ireland any more, that way I couldn't get upset, and besides I only had a couple more weeks left in Barcelona anyway. Mindy agreed that this was a good idea when I informed her of it when I rolled in at 7am.

Anyway slept for a couple of hours before the FUCKING HAMMERING AND DRILLING started... when will it stop?? Months and months and months of drilling is driving me crazy

After being so rudely awakened I texted the crew to see if anyone was up for a full English. Bob, somehow, had raced down to a phone box within minutes to agree that this was a splendid idea and so we met for a couple of bloody marys and a full english. mmmm.

Drinking the bloody marys I felt like Bambi, I was not sure that my legs would function when I stood up.. but it cured the hangover..

Anyway during breakfast Bob began to ask Mindy a question..

"There was this man.." I stopped him and for some, unknown, random, reason I asked

"Was he a ninja?" and so the day was henceforth named ninja day. :)

We continued with a 30 minute alcohol break where we went to my bar for some water and coffee from England and then it was on to temple for some Baileys.. excellent.

I was feeling pretty hammered by the time we got to the airport to drop Mindy off and partook in knee slides, trying to get through customs, queue jumping, trolley races.. and back on the airport bus to barcelona where Bob and I fucked some shit up in Corte Ingles

"Donde esta el shitter?"

and yet more cocktails and a trip to the supermarket.

I went home and passed out. Bob went home drank a bottle of wine and vomited all over his bedroom floor.

All you need is air

Monday - I was fucked. I did not get dressed. I did not eat. I just moped.. all day.

Tuesday - I made it to work for 3 hours. Went and had Pizza and Video at V's house with Bob

Wednesday - Did a full day at work.. and then.. then there was AIR GUITAR.. I was so excited about air guitar I could hardly contain myself.. at 10 pm we all trundled down to Ireland's house to have a few pre show bevvies.. and then we headed off..

I could not believe the queue.. It was immense.. but there was no one who looked competition enough for Bob and Ireland in their matching (gay) cowboy hats..

Not only was it free to get into such an awesome event but when we got in we discovered free vodka.. I can only say it went downhill from there. We were at the event less than 2 hours yet in that time I managed to drink.. ermm... I think 9 double shots of vodka.. needless to day when we got back to Ireland's apartment for a quick turn around.. I was unable to stand, let alone walk.. and promptly started throwing up in the bathroom.

Ireland and Gracie really looked after me - what absolute stars.. I was put to bed, where I passed out and they all went off for A and J's leaving do.. gutted I missed that! Fucking lightweight.

The webs we weave

Sometimes I even manage to amaze myself at the absolutely ridiculous amount of trouble I get into. And yet I have no one to blame but myself. My friends warn me and warn me but I just won't listen ever.

And so after Stig fucked me over.. what did I do?

7 day bender of doom!

Was so stressed and upset about Stig that I ended up feeling like absolute death on the Friday.

Did that stop me going out? No
Did that stop me getting absolutely leathered? No
Did that stop me going home with Ireland? Hell No!

And on Saturday I did the same again with the exception that Ireland fucked off with some blond Norwegian bird, and I was left with Dan the weasel.. who kept trying and trying and in the end I ended up pulling him in front of Ireland's housemate more than anything out of spite.. he ended up walking me home, but LUCKILY sososo LUCKILY he went home .. I think it was after coming across Head Chicken's mother in the living room that scared him.. Thank goodness.

I then, in an effort to try and not wake her again.. wandered to the loo without switching the lights on.. I had, of course, forgotten that she had left her open suitcase in the hall which I then promptly fell into.. very loudly.. with a lot of cursing. So much for being quiet.

After a heavy weekend.. V had managed to double book herself so to get her out of trouble we all went to the cinema.. Ireland included.. it went well.. and then very very wrong when a supposed quiet night turned into me singing and dancing in the middle of plaza real at 530am.

I also woke up the next day with many bruises and a lump on my head.. I believe this was from when I was giving V and Gracie girl love in Karma and we all fell to the floor.. only to have Mark jump on top.. well who could resist 3 gorgeous women!

That night Ireland dissappeared off with my best friend V.. was I upset? Yes, extremely.. my drunken logic.. was just that.. drunken.. not helped by the fact that when I called her she denied she was with him. I even had to take Monday off work as I just felt like a physical and emotional wreck.

Of course the next day I spoke to her and she told me that nothing had happened..

I can only admit to the fact that I have become a little obsessed with Ireland. oh no.

Stig is a fucker

He finally convinced me to go back with him last night after god knows how many lies..

This morning he called to tell me it's best that we just be friends.. FUCKER. Until he's sorted stuff out with his girlfriend, needless to say I was pretty mad but V came and met me for lunch and we saw through a large jug of Cava Sangria.. and then at the end of lunch he called again.

He isn't planning to leave his girlfriend, he's very sorry. will I forgive him?

HELL NO! Not only has he tricked me and lied to me he now wants my forgiveness.. fuck off is all I have to say.

He said we should both delete each others numbers and not be in contact again.

I told him that none of this surprised me, the truth is, I knew it was coming but still I was very upset, the cava didn't help. Luckily V and Gracie are coming to meet me from work.. we will have tea.. that great British institution.. your house burns down, your family perish.. don't worry pet.. a cup of tea will sort you out.

Ayyy, q pena.

Why you should never play with salt

Having dinner with V, Freddie and V's father.. I told V not to play with the salt.. it's bad luck I said..

Freddy piped up.. yes it is.. the last time I played with salt my house burned down.

Although we all laughed.. this wasn't a joke.. he did play with salt and then his house did burn down. Luckily with no casualties.

You have been warned.

Last night we went to Luz de Gas.

I quite like this place, mainly for the wide range of music they play, it's really quite cheesy so you can have a good old dance. The venue is an old theatre I believe and every day they have some sort of music concert so there is a stage where you can also dance on later on when your extrovert side drunkenly rears its ugly head and you think your Beyoncé incarnate.

I have had quite a few scuffles up on this stage, elbowing old Catalan women out of the way to take my place as queen of the stage. One even tried to push me off. Bitch.

The downside of Luz de Gas is that it is a complete meat market. Which I wasn't wise to at first but now I certainly am even though last night I met a guy, let's call him Stig.

I don't know why, he was very insistent, but we ended up kissing. When I tried to pull away he wouldn't let me. And he didn't smile, not even once.

I told him about why I didn't like the guys I met in Barcelona (they all have girlfriends but cheat on them anyway) and he gave me the old "But I'm not like those" bullshit.

To be honest I found him very peculiar but strangley fascinating which is why, after walking around the city for about an hour I decided to go home with him but not to have sex. Which is what I did.

Sometimes I am a stupid girl, in the time I spent with Stig, I found out that not only was he a Nazi sympathiser and a racist but he also kept a sword on top of his wardrobe and had a girlfriend!

Fucker. I left his apartment raging and had no idea where I was! I eventually found a metro station and made my way home.

The Dominican Republic – The rules are .. there are no rules

Torrential rain greeted us on our arrival in Santo Domingo, I had been led to believe the Caribbean was sunny and watching forked lightening light up the Caribbean sea when Hurricane Katrina had just destroyed large parts of the USA did little to ease my anxieties concerning hurricanes hitting the island at any moment. This was even more the case when on arrival at Joan’s beach house we encountered a shipwrecked boat at the end of the garden – the result of a recent hurricane.

My first impressions of the country were varied – on one hand there is an enormous amount of wealth, driving around the roads there are no end of hugely expensive cars, Hummers, Jags, Porsches – however this money is held by an extremely small percentage of the population while the rest (mainly black) survive on next to nothing using the carros publicos and ‘bus’ services to travel to and from their employees each day. Every place we visited had servants to cook, clean.. and I was not entirely comfortable with a situation in which the black people are viewed as a lower class mainly there to serve the obese rich white people.

Going to a local TV station to pick something up we climbed the stairs as the lift was hanging from a cable and there appeared to be no doors.. like a scene from candyman.. however walking through the doors of the company we then found ourselves in a luxurious reception.. Another thing that amazed me were the carros publicos (public cars), at first we were under the impression that they were taxis (very dodgy taxis but still..) until it was explained to us their true purpose.. cars that are completely unroadworthy in the UK (imagine the advert set in India where they use an elephant to bash up a car in the shape of a Peugeot – in the end the car is covered in dents.. like that) are driven around the city picking up passengers along the way.. sort of like a taxi but shared with other people.. the amazing thing about these cars is not the fact they look like scrap metal but more the numbers of people, chickens, goats they can actually fit inside them.. it’s not uncommon to see 8 or 9 people in one carro.

Our host Joan wanted to make sure that we saw typical Dominican life so we were taken to many bars and clubs where we once again heard the immortal lines uttered by all Dominican men ‘ Do you dance merengue?’ now we can at least say yes! Dominican men are a breed of weasel all to their own.. never have I been so sure of what a guy is going to say before he has said it.. You have such beautiful eyes, You’re the most beautiful girl in the whole place, even.. I’ve fallen in love.

Joan also decided to take us around the island to see some of the beautiful beaches in the north and east of the island.. when discussing plans with his friends one of them felt the need to take some time off work to join us as he didn’t think we’d arrive back alive.. one of the had also advised him to definitely without a doubt acquire a 4x4 for the journey, Joan decided against heeding his friend’s advice and off we set on our road trip in a Peugeot saloon car.. I am not sure if some one cursed our journey but it was possibly the most stressful trip of my life. Having set off four hours late we finally set off and half an hour into the trip a tyre burst.. having a tyre burst in normal circumstances is bad enough.. having a tyre burst on a Dominican motorway is the worst.. we first of all changed the tyre in the 37 degree heat being beeped at every 2 minutes by Dominican lorry drivers. The emergency tyre was not worth the rubber it was made of and we knew we had to find a replacement asap. Miraculously there was a tyre replacement place just on the other side of the motorway which we reached by crossing the six lanes of traffic. A tyre replacement centre in the Dominican republic is not like one in Europe..

The route across the island was fascinating we passed through coconut plantations, banana plantations, through tiny hamlets and shanty towns and over and across the mountains to see the most spectacular view over the coast line of the North-East Coast of the Island known as Las Terrenas. As we drove Joan regaled me with interesting facts about the different things we were seeing – Banana plants for example only give one harvest , and so every year all of the plants must be uprooted and new ones planted. This is the same with sugar cane – after the harvest they uproot what they can and set fire to the fields giving off a smell like burnt caramel. We also passed Hugh Hefner’s Dominican Estate,

When we arrived at the beach that had been recommended to us we found that it had been wrecked by the hurricane that had blown by the north side of the island so we went on a mission to find a new place . It was already 3pm and the sun sets at 6 so we had precious little time, not to be deterred we set off along the coastline looking for an alternative beach. Stopping at a junction we came across a chap on a moped, Joan asked him to recommend a beach nearby and the guy said he would take us to one.. we just had to follow him. Off we went behind moped man in search of a beach within a few minutes we had encountered our first obstacle – a funeral procession.. not just any funeral procession,, a typical Dominican procession with the body being drawn by horse and the whole village walking slowly behind. We eventually passed, having been following for around 25 minutes and carried on. Moped guy had told us that the journey would take 15 minutes.. yet, not including the hold-up, we had been following him for a good 30 minutes. He eventually turned off down a dirt track and we followed behind.. this is when we began to understood why we needed a 4x4. The track was a best a dirt road and a worst a potholed, rocky, ditch ridden ridiculous excuse for a track which Joan’s car was having extreme difficulty getting down. Every time rocks scraped along the bottom of the car Joan’s face would screw up in horror. Yet we carried on.

We then encountered our second obstacle. Turning a corner we found ourselves face to face with a herd of particularly sorry looking cows. Our guide had zoomed on ahead on his little moto while we sat and watched as one by one the cows slowly sauntered by with their herder and we watched the sun get lower in the sky as the rest of our sunlight and chance to tan ourselves slipped slowly from sight…

We carry on and see in the distance a peculiar sight, over the brow of a small hill in the road we see our guide has dismounted his moto and is throwing rocks over his head trying to clear the road. At this point our guide reappears and Joan tells him that the track is a no go and we are turning around. Not to fret, our guide knows another shorter, and easier, not to mention better for the car route. Why he didn’t tell us this earlier… anyway we turn around and make our way back down the track scraping the car as we go.

We reach the main road drive down a little way and follow our guide down another little track.. a few drops start to hit the windshield, rain. Great. All we need. We carry on regardless even though this track does not seem any better than the last and is, if possible, worse. A little way down we pass some people on quad bikes, the rain is now starting to fall quite heavily, the road is fast becoming a quagmire, we stop the quads and ask what the the road is like further on.

“In that car… impossible”

We call it a day and head back to the hotel.

To Be Continued .....

The longest blog entry ever

You can breathe a sigh of relief.. this is not the epic novel of normal… and lucky for you as I haven’t sent a newsletter since July.. wow what a long time..

Just to let you know briefly what I’ve been up to.. a lot..

July:

In July (and August) I worked like a demon as it’s the busiest time of year in this line of work so there were no holidays for me although it wasn’t all work.. on 13th July I went to bed knowing it would be the last time I got a decent night’s sleep until 3rd August..

What Shameless did

Ibiza: Went over to Ibiza for a weekend for a friend’s birthday where I managed to spend a mammoth 14 hours on the beach.. only moving to go on a banana boat (note to self: never scream when falling off, open mouth and sea water do NOT mix). The definite highlight of the weekend had to be a DJ friend mixing in Tiffany – I think we’re alone now into his funky house mix – very pleasing!

Mindy @ the hotel: I flew in from Ibiza and went straight to work (having made a cool 125 euros from foolish airline overbooking the flight), went for a liquid lunch (not recommended after a weekend of no sleep) and spent the next 10 days partying and beaching with Mindy showing her the best of Barca including Shoko, My new favourite bar(see below), danzatoria (of course), the best falafel place in the world... it’s not tofu.. we also went to the strangest vegetarian restaurant in the world where we did get fed tofu and roasted beetroot.. I believe that will be my one and only visit there.. anyway it was an excellent few days and hopefully Mindy will come back and visit soon

The discovery of the best bar ever: ****bar – my new favourite place.. so secret.. I don’t even know the address.. only trusted members of the BCN circle know that we frequent it.. the craziest, funnest, most excellent bar in the whole of Barcelona if not the world.. at 00:00 it’s empty yet within half an hour it is so full that people (me) have no choice but to dance on the tables.. on the bar.. fit (straight) barmen dancing on the bar swinging their tops around in the air.. yes. dodgy alcohol that leaves you unable to even see after one drink .. and the best bit ..a 9:1 ratio of men to women! heh.

The Ex and His friend @ the hotel: The day Mindy left (after very nearly missing her flight.. sorry about that) Ex and his friend arrived for yet another 5 days of more beach, more danzatoria, more ****bar, 83 very drunken photos and an almighty big row.. excellent.

August: I continued to work work work all through August.. I I spent the first weekend of August in Andalucia with my family and friends having a wicked time.. I love the people in Andalucia.. they are the nicest, friendliest people in the world.. although my Sevillana cousin led me astray by taking me out and getting me drunk on a Monday night when I had a 7am flight…

When I returned I was quite disturbed to see that Barcelona had been deserted by locals and internationals alike and so I decided to provide me and my friends with our own nightlife and thus began the Shameless Hussy Party Trilogy which was f***ing awesome.

Tia and Pierre and Ludwig @ the hotel – Having been lulled into a false sense of security thinking that I had the whole apartment free for the month of August (even HC was away for 20 days) I then had some last minute bookings of the nicest kind and to be fair after 20 minutes on my own I’d got bored anyway and was glad of the new company even though on Pierre's first day he thought I was a nutcase as I spent 2 hours hiding outside behind a bush.. loooong story.. blame HC

Cocktail Friday, Gansters and Molls and the White and Blue Party were all amazingly successful and I have now been put in charge of organising my housemate’s 30th.. although he is COMPLETELY unaware of the events we are having when he is away..PS1 I must just radiate best parties ever hostess vibes.. I now have 1000 euros to spend.. and so.. the next party organised by myself will involve castles, helicopters, waterfalls.. the works.. GET IN! will send all pics (obviously taken by the official photographer)
Can’t wait for that one!

I thought I had completely got away with the parties.. party no.3 was excellent.. a large and lively crowd the night before HC was due to return.. then on to a club .. Mirablau - we had a couple of incidents the week before due to our gangster outfits and not being allowed into anywhere .. however i had had a few phonecalls to day everyone had made it in and i was surprised to say the least when i got to the club and found it empty.. especially as i was the last to arrive.. after i'd ordered a drink at the bar it occurred to me to ask the name of the club.. turns out it was called mirablé, we were in the wrong damn place.. V, Ludwig and I downed our drinks and then watched as Percy casually sauntered to the entrance tipped his drink into a plastic glass and walked out.. i forgot that you could do that in Spain..
It was so cool to eventually walk into MiraBLAU and see the dance floor full of people from the party all dressed in white and blue!

The previous party had taken me 13 hours to clean up after.. but I had it all under control.. an after party cleaning party team was gathered together and at 0530am after getting home from the club.. we set about tidying the house.- the fact that we were all so hammered (thanks to my infamous Cocktail bowl and those earlier drinks we'd downed) definitely helped our progress and the place was spotless in under an hour.. the place looked better than it ever had.. all that was left to do was take a binbag of rubbish (glass bottles) down..
This is not more difficult than it sounds.. all it involved was opening the front door and putting the sack in the lift.. however.. Jack thought it would be a clever idea to throw the bin bag over the banister and down 4 storeys..

I’m sure you can imagine the noise a huge bin bag of glass bottles makes when it hits a stone floor 4 storeys below and the kind of mess.. well actually you probably can’t imagine but it’s pretty phenomenal.. enough to wake up several neighbours that’s for sure.. Jack claims he was unaware there was any glass in the bag even though that was the ONLY thing in it.. Ludwig and Gracie legged it out the front door.. while Jack thought that it should just be left... i slept through it all.

The next day.. I apologised to my neighbour for any noise made.. her response was..

“It wasn’t really the noise that bothered me.. it was just … very… strange.. but
don't worry about it"

And then she goes and dobs me in.. to be honest I was surprised that no-one had complained throughout the duration of the parties although i have heard tales of cans being thrown up at the balcony from below.. and a neighbour actually being AT the party..

September: Work slacked off a tiny bit.. but I still felt like the Tazmanian Devil.. my life seems to be like a soap opera at the moment.. life is never simple.. and then I jetted off to the caribe for a well deserved holiday.. tales from that next time..



PS1. I have since been busted for the parties. I was in very big trouble but the fact I got away with them for so long I think makes me a fucking legend! I think that a mole gave me away.. I’ve yet to find out who.. but when I do.. they can be rest assured they are in BIG BIG trouble. My housemate after threatening many things has since forgiven me and allowed me to continue living there.. I think the present I bought helped. However, never one to be deterred, I am ever on the look out for new HS locations and as my reputation has preceded me, I have had several offers of apartments in which to hold parties.. yeh.. it’s all good

NEXT TIME: Tales from the dominican republic, Princess party, the evils of Tequila, life under a german dictatorship as experienced first hand