Going out

"Some call it theatre and education, I call it, AIDS in a van"

It's weird being a social cripple. You spend your life convincing yourself that going out is a BAD thing; getting quite worked up about things as the event approaches, wondering whether a convenient bolt of lightning might strike you down to give you an excuse not to go.

The problem with going out is that you leave your familiar surroundings behind you. Apart from your own home, there are very few places where you'd feel able to have a poo - I only have two "safe houses" for this activity and this is quite a problem with my toilet obsession.

When out with people, you feel forced to converse with them. What about, for fuck's sake? There are certain no-go subjects: religion; politics; other people's kids; holidays; home improvements.

So the conversation drifts into the latest goings on on the TV:

Them "What programmes do you like watching, Tina?"

Me "I don't really watch the telly, I don't like it much."

Them "So what do you do during the evening?"

Me "Piss about on the internet, go to the gym when I'm not too knackered..."

Them "Really, what do you do on the internet for an entire evening?"

Me "I have this weblog where I write about hating going out with colleagues because I don't have anything much to say to them and I don't want them to know anything about me...."

Them "Really???? Is that really true?"

Me "No, I'm kidding! I just download porn."

Them "Hah-hah-hah - you had us going there for a minute! I thought you were one of those weirdos with an online journal. What sad fucks they all are, writing about work, their families and CATS! They always write about cats, the sad cunts."

Me "Yeah, cats. As if!!"

Fuckers.

So I tend to direct any conversation towards the safe (food) or the surreal (my food preferences), or better still, just get on with my food and speak only when spoken to avoiding certain topics of conversation completely (relationships).

Going out and not drinking is not much fun, especially when the conversation turns to why I don't drink. Are people thick? Here's a tip: if somebody tells you they don't drink, you don't need to ask "What, ever?" and you should NEVER follow this up with "Why's that then?". The reasons for this are:

a) People sometimes don't drink for religious reasons and first rule of going out is: Never talk about religion.

b) Other people who don't drink may well be reformed alcoholics and it's really not fair to pry into that sort of thing. It makes things very uncomfortable since the reformed alcoholic knows that they can't fall back on "Because I'm a methodist" because that would be in breach of Rule 1. They then have to make up some shit story about, "Oh I just got out of the habit of it and now I don't bother at all. No I CAN'T HAVE TIRAMISU FOR PUDDING!!!".


Chain reaction
A-KICK-two, three, four-STEP-two, three, four

Ever seen how women at weddings (and similar dire, torturous functions) dance to Chain Reaction, Uptown Girl and Simply the Best? Don't you ever wish you had an AK-47?

Of course, here in the UK, weddings are usually finished off with the bride and groom being surrounded by a crowd drunken, vol-au-vent-overdosed wedding guests who encircle them while singing along to the Tina Turner classic. With hands held and arms raised, the swaying crowd descends into the Hokey Cokey. The result is literally "Murder on the dancefloor, but you'd better not kill the groom", the happy couple are left on the verge of death under a pile of middle-aged, sequin-clad women and drunken uncles with ties wrapped around their heads.

Thank you Coldearth for reminding how much I detest these happy occasions, although the sausages on sticks and chicken drumsticks are usually pretty good.