Trying to wee in a nightclub 27/03/2006
I started this week with three separate social dates yet ended it with all of them, for one reason or another, having been blown out. Ok, they were hardly black tie functions and involved simply meeting friends and old work colleagues but at the beginning of the week I felt buoyed by my active social life yet by the end was depressed by my lack ot it!
My black ipod nano arrived mid week and I got to experience the pleasures of being introduced to the Apple world. It is a pretty wicked piece of kit. I've started to build up my playlists and should now be able to keep myself entertained in the gym. The amazing thing though is the Apple music store. It's just got so many songs and all so tantalizingly cheap that it would be rude not to buy the occasional one.
I remembered years ago hearing on Magic FM a Mark Cohen/early Elton John piano style song but could remember little more about it. I knew the title was a girls name but couldn't think of it. I was then playing some Madonna in the office and saw the song 'dear jessie' and the title of the song suddenly came to me 'Jessie'. I hooked up to the Apple store, previewed some of the various songs that were called Jessie and there it was Jessie by Joshua Kadison. I downloaded it and now have it forever on my nano. How ridiculously cool is that.
Jessie is as good, if not better than what I remember. You could say it was about a guy being used but to me it's about having a love of your life who can always excite you time and again. I don't know but there is something about someone being able to pop back into your life and drag you from all the tedium and banality and give you, albeit a temporary, heart pounding, shot of love and romance. Great song, try and source it out if you can.
Hooked up with my Bro on Friday night. Feeling deflated after another blow out, I thought I would use the fact that I was wearing an ironed shirt and too much aftershave to head down to the pub and then from here onto a club. It was ok but they had DJ Luck and MC Neat who aren't exactly my cup of tea. Everyone crowded up to the podium they were 'performing' from - why I don't know - and then listened to them either gibber ridiculously quickly or resort to either 'Oggie, oggie, oggie' or the classic 'all the sexy girls give me a cheer' when they felt the crowds attention span begin to wander. Nobody was dancing, just waving their hands and responding with the requisite 'oh, oh, oh'.
I wandered round the club a couple of times and had my cards on me. There were some nice looking girls but they all seemed so transient or couldn't even see me (must have been wearing my cloaking device again). I don't know, I look at all these girls and can't help but wonder if their personalities have levels of depth that are waiting, or desperate, to be explored or that they are just as shallow and vain as they look. I thought it was males who were meant to act like peacocks yet I've never seen so much hair flicking, attitude hip jutting or casual (but oh so deliberate) shoulder dropping to result in the strap sliding off. You'd like to think that they have some cleverness, some spark of humour or uniqueness but all they seem impressed with are the multitude of Hackett wearing, collar turned up, over produced hairstyle arses that hang around in gangs of six or seven, guzzling beer and incapable of dancing or conversing. I saw one girl mooching around the club who looked cute in these secretary style glasses yet had a dress open almost to her navel with these lovely large boobs hanging out. Now it was nice to look at but it makes you wonder what kind of attention she hopes to get. Does she expect someone to want to talk to her, does she simply want to get noticed or does she want someone to say 'great tits, fancy a fuck'.
Times when I wandered around the club I felt like I was walking half as slow as everyone else, like one of those music videos where the singer is moving through a crowd where everyone is rushing past twice as fast. When I was younger girls only ever seemed to be interested in older men, yet now I'm older and all they seem to be interested in is younger men. Where was that change over period? Did that sweet spot only last for a day or maybe even hours, did it happen when I was asleep in bed because I am still waiting for the moment when my maturity and age act as this incredible magnet to younger girls.
One thing that I did have difficulty with in this huge superclub was the simple act of taking a piss. Now I'm not afraid to admit I'm pee shy (if this is the correct term). I can't piss in a urinal and need the peace, privacy and lack of pressure that a cubicle affords. It isn't because I'm embarrassed about the size of my cock, as unlike most women think, men do not look at each others todgers in the toilets, but more so that I just can't pee when I feel pressured. If I feel someone is hurrying me so they can use the trough or thinking 'christ how long is this guy going to be' then it just won't come out and my bladder, although almost bursting, seals up tighter than Fort Knox. Hence I have to resort to the cubicles, which I have the pleasure of sharing with drug takers and those who enjoy a nightclub shit (who are these people?).
On this night after consuming numerous Red Bulls, J20's and bottles of water the time had come. I headed off to the first one which was very busy and had two cubicles. I got into one but heard everyone rustling outside and the GTA (Ghanaian Toilet Attendant) offering people Joop and 'No Armani, no poonanyi'. It was too much, I couldn't relax and left in search of another.
I hit the VIP bar and found the gents. A trough and one cubicle, which was occupied. The GTA in here started chatting to me which is the last thing I wanted. I don't want people to register my existence otherwise they might register how long I take and if I think they might be doing that I cannot relax. He proceeded to tell me, whilst standing too far within my personal body space, how he was an ambassador for the club and my enjoyment was his main concern. 'Yeah thanks' I mumbled when the trap came free and bundled in. Ok, now relax, take your mind off it by concentrating on how many tiles on the wall or something else equally tedious and let the bladder do what it wants. I then hear two loud guys come into the toilet. 'Can we get in the cubicle' they ask the GTA. 'No, it's occupied' comes the response. Great now people are waiting to get in here and any chance of urine flow recedes like a Greenland glacier. I flush and exit the toilet, shaking away the offer of a handshake from the GTA.
I proceed down to the biggest toilet. An entire wall of urinals on one side and at least 8 cubicles on the other. Nirvana. But no, hang on, five of them are out of order, leaving only three and the one that comes free for me I discover has no lock. I'm now trying to piss with one hand directing my knob and the other holding the door closed to avoid disturbance or an unwelcome crack on the back of the head by the door if I was lucky enough to be in mid flow. Add to this and maybe due to it being the biggest toilet we've got the hyper GTA that must be on crack as he is literally bouncing up and down the toilets clapping his hands together and singing 'You've got to freshen up, you've got to freshen up'. It's too much, I can't find that peaceful scene of rolling hills in my mind and I leave the toilet. I mill around the club for another five minutes and then return on a do or die mission to secure a lockable cubicle. It comes free, I get inside and begin to count the contents of my wallet with trousers right round my knees to avoid any form of restricting pressure. Ah bliss, it starts but you still have to remain utterly calm until about 15 seconds into full flow when the bladder takes over as an unstoppable motion and you can truly enjoy it. What a palaver I agree but we all have our cross to bear and if anyone else suffers from this you are not alone. Upon returning to the gang I felt relieved and ready for action. As it happens I left about an hour later without hitting the dance floor due to the poor music.
Hit the gym on Saturday to enjoy my new ipod. So refreshing being able to run with both hands though I will need to get some earphones as the ones that came with it are the type that just sit in your ear, or in my case keep falling out. I'll get the ones that clip over the ear though for the time being may have to revert to the big old cyberman ones and damage my fledgling gym 'cred'.
Watched Day of the Dolphin, which I'd recently bought on DVD. Like Jessie this was a film that I'd seen years ago, probably when in my teens, about talking dolphins and I remembered it's ability to upset me. It's aged ok (1970's) but with probably a little too much emphasis on the shots of swimming dolphins set to music as opposed to the story. Still good though and I'm glad that I own it. If anyone has actually seen it, I only know of one other that has, then you'll understand the sentiment behind 'Faa loves Paa'.
MotoGP was on Sunday and it was nice to see Rossi have a bad race. He's an incredible talent no doubt but his genius does make an event boring as there is an inevitability of him winning no matter where he starts on the grid. Yes, he is brilliant and gifted but the BBC goes on about him so much that it's degenerated into the tedium of F1 when Schumacher and Ferrari were so dominant. It's a real shame that the BBC can't be arsed to run with the World Superbikes, which delivers the kind of racing which I long for. Wheel to wheel, hotly contested stuff in bikes that seem to be a lot closer to each other in performance and are exhilerating to watch. Oh well Daniel Pedrosa came in second on his first ever MotoGP so maybe he will have the talent and bare faced cheek to take on Rossi as the last person who had the balls to do it was Sete Gibernau a few seasons ago.
My black ipod nano arrived mid week and I got to experience the pleasures of being introduced to the Apple world. It is a pretty wicked piece of kit. I've started to build up my playlists and should now be able to keep myself entertained in the gym. The amazing thing though is the Apple music store. It's just got so many songs and all so tantalizingly cheap that it would be rude not to buy the occasional one.
I remembered years ago hearing on Magic FM a Mark Cohen/early Elton John piano style song but could remember little more about it. I knew the title was a girls name but couldn't think of it. I was then playing some Madonna in the office and saw the song 'dear jessie' and the title of the song suddenly came to me 'Jessie'. I hooked up to the Apple store, previewed some of the various songs that were called Jessie and there it was Jessie by Joshua Kadison. I downloaded it and now have it forever on my nano. How ridiculously cool is that.
Jessie is as good, if not better than what I remember. You could say it was about a guy being used but to me it's about having a love of your life who can always excite you time and again. I don't know but there is something about someone being able to pop back into your life and drag you from all the tedium and banality and give you, albeit a temporary, heart pounding, shot of love and romance. Great song, try and source it out if you can.
Hooked up with my Bro on Friday night. Feeling deflated after another blow out, I thought I would use the fact that I was wearing an ironed shirt and too much aftershave to head down to the pub and then from here onto a club. It was ok but they had DJ Luck and MC Neat who aren't exactly my cup of tea. Everyone crowded up to the podium they were 'performing' from - why I don't know - and then listened to them either gibber ridiculously quickly or resort to either 'Oggie, oggie, oggie' or the classic 'all the sexy girls give me a cheer' when they felt the crowds attention span begin to wander. Nobody was dancing, just waving their hands and responding with the requisite 'oh, oh, oh'.
I wandered round the club a couple of times and had my cards on me. There were some nice looking girls but they all seemed so transient or couldn't even see me (must have been wearing my cloaking device again). I don't know, I look at all these girls and can't help but wonder if their personalities have levels of depth that are waiting, or desperate, to be explored or that they are just as shallow and vain as they look. I thought it was males who were meant to act like peacocks yet I've never seen so much hair flicking, attitude hip jutting or casual (but oh so deliberate) shoulder dropping to result in the strap sliding off. You'd like to think that they have some cleverness, some spark of humour or uniqueness but all they seem impressed with are the multitude of Hackett wearing, collar turned up, over produced hairstyle arses that hang around in gangs of six or seven, guzzling beer and incapable of dancing or conversing. I saw one girl mooching around the club who looked cute in these secretary style glasses yet had a dress open almost to her navel with these lovely large boobs hanging out. Now it was nice to look at but it makes you wonder what kind of attention she hopes to get. Does she expect someone to want to talk to her, does she simply want to get noticed or does she want someone to say 'great tits, fancy a fuck'.
Times when I wandered around the club I felt like I was walking half as slow as everyone else, like one of those music videos where the singer is moving through a crowd where everyone is rushing past twice as fast. When I was younger girls only ever seemed to be interested in older men, yet now I'm older and all they seem to be interested in is younger men. Where was that change over period? Did that sweet spot only last for a day or maybe even hours, did it happen when I was asleep in bed because I am still waiting for the moment when my maturity and age act as this incredible magnet to younger girls.
One thing that I did have difficulty with in this huge superclub was the simple act of taking a piss. Now I'm not afraid to admit I'm pee shy (if this is the correct term). I can't piss in a urinal and need the peace, privacy and lack of pressure that a cubicle affords. It isn't because I'm embarrassed about the size of my cock, as unlike most women think, men do not look at each others todgers in the toilets, but more so that I just can't pee when I feel pressured. If I feel someone is hurrying me so they can use the trough or thinking 'christ how long is this guy going to be' then it just won't come out and my bladder, although almost bursting, seals up tighter than Fort Knox. Hence I have to resort to the cubicles, which I have the pleasure of sharing with drug takers and those who enjoy a nightclub shit (who are these people?).
On this night after consuming numerous Red Bulls, J20's and bottles of water the time had come. I headed off to the first one which was very busy and had two cubicles. I got into one but heard everyone rustling outside and the GTA (Ghanaian Toilet Attendant) offering people Joop and 'No Armani, no poonanyi'. It was too much, I couldn't relax and left in search of another.
I hit the VIP bar and found the gents. A trough and one cubicle, which was occupied. The GTA in here started chatting to me which is the last thing I wanted. I don't want people to register my existence otherwise they might register how long I take and if I think they might be doing that I cannot relax. He proceeded to tell me, whilst standing too far within my personal body space, how he was an ambassador for the club and my enjoyment was his main concern. 'Yeah thanks' I mumbled when the trap came free and bundled in. Ok, now relax, take your mind off it by concentrating on how many tiles on the wall or something else equally tedious and let the bladder do what it wants. I then hear two loud guys come into the toilet. 'Can we get in the cubicle' they ask the GTA. 'No, it's occupied' comes the response. Great now people are waiting to get in here and any chance of urine flow recedes like a Greenland glacier. I flush and exit the toilet, shaking away the offer of a handshake from the GTA.
I proceed down to the biggest toilet. An entire wall of urinals on one side and at least 8 cubicles on the other. Nirvana. But no, hang on, five of them are out of order, leaving only three and the one that comes free for me I discover has no lock. I'm now trying to piss with one hand directing my knob and the other holding the door closed to avoid disturbance or an unwelcome crack on the back of the head by the door if I was lucky enough to be in mid flow. Add to this and maybe due to it being the biggest toilet we've got the hyper GTA that must be on crack as he is literally bouncing up and down the toilets clapping his hands together and singing 'You've got to freshen up, you've got to freshen up'. It's too much, I can't find that peaceful scene of rolling hills in my mind and I leave the toilet. I mill around the club for another five minutes and then return on a do or die mission to secure a lockable cubicle. It comes free, I get inside and begin to count the contents of my wallet with trousers right round my knees to avoid any form of restricting pressure. Ah bliss, it starts but you still have to remain utterly calm until about 15 seconds into full flow when the bladder takes over as an unstoppable motion and you can truly enjoy it. What a palaver I agree but we all have our cross to bear and if anyone else suffers from this you are not alone. Upon returning to the gang I felt relieved and ready for action. As it happens I left about an hour later without hitting the dance floor due to the poor music.
Hit the gym on Saturday to enjoy my new ipod. So refreshing being able to run with both hands though I will need to get some earphones as the ones that came with it are the type that just sit in your ear, or in my case keep falling out. I'll get the ones that clip over the ear though for the time being may have to revert to the big old cyberman ones and damage my fledgling gym 'cred'.
Watched Day of the Dolphin, which I'd recently bought on DVD. Like Jessie this was a film that I'd seen years ago, probably when in my teens, about talking dolphins and I remembered it's ability to upset me. It's aged ok (1970's) but with probably a little too much emphasis on the shots of swimming dolphins set to music as opposed to the story. Still good though and I'm glad that I own it. If anyone has actually seen it, I only know of one other that has, then you'll understand the sentiment behind 'Faa loves Paa'.
MotoGP was on Sunday and it was nice to see Rossi have a bad race. He's an incredible talent no doubt but his genius does make an event boring as there is an inevitability of him winning no matter where he starts on the grid. Yes, he is brilliant and gifted but the BBC goes on about him so much that it's degenerated into the tedium of F1 when Schumacher and Ferrari were so dominant. It's a real shame that the BBC can't be arsed to run with the World Superbikes, which delivers the kind of racing which I long for. Wheel to wheel, hotly contested stuff in bikes that seem to be a lot closer to each other in performance and are exhilerating to watch. Oh well Daniel Pedrosa came in second on his first ever MotoGP so maybe he will have the talent and bare faced cheek to take on Rossi as the last person who had the balls to do it was Sete Gibernau a few seasons ago.
posted by payne by name at 8:01 am
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