About Me
- @scousebirdprobs
- Liverpool
- Scouse bird with a vodka dependency and an acute sense of social observation. Always self deprecating, always blunt. Follow me on twitter WARNING: Non-scousers may not understand language of this blog.
Saturday, 4 February 2012
Shit lads are shit.
Last night was the night of the much talked about Twitter Family night out. The Twitter Family are a firm of decent people to have a laugh with on twitter (no shit sherlock) but yano we'll get on to how to follow them later.
The idea for this night out was hatched a few weeks ago and initially everyone was up for it like a bird with low self esteem looking for affection. But as the night drew ever closer they started dropping like flies, presumably because they knew my partying skills would both intimidate and embarrass them. The lads were the main culprits in this. Shit lads are shit. You know who you are *looks at you all accusingly*
So @staceylouise109 bowled up to ours where myself and @susielovesvodka were busy looking for the tv remote. We were ready to get the music channels on but the remote had other ideas and was determined to keep me locked in a Hollyoaks/E4 death grip. High and low was searched, even in handbags and the fridge (learnt from a past mistake). Eventually it was found under the couch along with a plectrum. I don't own or know anyone who owns a guitar, which leads me to believe @The53s have been sneaking into my house while I sleep and staring at me. Don't be shy lads, climb in for a cuddle.
The vodkas were in full flow (stacey obv got the slightly smaller glass cos she's a wool) and I retired to the bathroom as I was having major false eyelash issues and needed quiet to concentrate on applying them without the end result being me looking a bit special. Instead I just got my socks wet which made me fume even more. Fuck it. Lets get pissed. Grrr
Stacey's mate came to pick us up in our gleaming delta carriage and we rocked up to the Revo looking flllllyyy. I made a beeline for my favourite bartender @stehodge_12 and got the round in. Four diet cokes "because we're driving" #HandbagVodka and tequilas and sambuca all round. "£5.60 please" Yes that's the kind of round I like! Ste is both sound and looking real tanned as of late, been sunbathing on the arl lecky beach, little gorge.
Not gonna lie ladies, Revo was kind of skinny on the talent front. So we danced and had a laugh and abused any wools who dared approach. I fumed at one guy and told him to stop invading my personal space as he quite innocently walked past, but he did have a combover so I was well within my rights.
I looked at my glass, disaster "I'm dry!" so being the chief kitty minder as believe it or not I'm classed as the most responsible one, I made my way to the bar only to bump into Mr Combover. Great. Now what happened next was a bit unexpected, Mr Combover started singing in my face. Not along with the music or anything, just making conversation but belting it out opera style. I tell you what not only did he make me laugh, he stopped me on my express train mission for vodka and made me take a seat. Plus he was scouse-ish. "We need to do something about this hair." I said. "What hair would you like me to have?" "Short back and sides." Come on dude, scouse it uuupppp! Anyways, we got our club neck on and numbers were exchanged and I returned to my now very thirsty friends where all hell had broken loose. Susie had took the knock off some birds perfume and was going home. We had to soldier on without her.
At the doors of Mojo I was horrified to be asked for ID by the bouncer. "Are you high??? I'm 26! I've had botox! Look I can't even frown!" I got right up in his grill and attempted to frown DEAD HARD . "Oh alright love go in." Sound. I latched onto the nearest out of towner, "Ay mate, buy us a whiskey an lemo will ya?" "What do I get in return?" "A neck" So whiskeys were purchased, I gave him Staceys mate to neck and dispatched him with a blunt, "You've had your neck, now FUCK OFF" Brutal.
Next stop The Raz. Yeh you heard. Bopping away to Mmm'bop and the Five megamix I noticed Stacey gettin her clubneck on. "Any good?" She shook her head and looked disappointed. To be fair to the girl she gave him two more chances hoping that each neck would be better than the last, but she was fresh out of luck.
In the toilets we decided to pay homage to our favourite scouse indie band The 53's by writing their name across my cleavage in eyeliner and tweeting it to them. Staceys mate whom I'd met only hours earlier enjoyed getting a good grip of my boobs. See lads this is why girls go the toilets together. Mystery solved! I decided to leave the eyeliner on for the rest of the night as a walking billboard, only to be accused by several fellas of having a phone number written on my chest. Er mate, if birds give you 2 digit phone numbers you've been getting swerved for years soz.
The night ended in Passion (the club, not a clinch) which in my opinion kind of makes the Raz look upmarket. By this time everyone was too wasted to be of any interest to me plus I couldn't make any sense of anything through the vodka haze. I'd somehow mislaid £20 as well which made me fume. So we piled into a taxi and rolled home at 6am. Respectable.
See lads? You missed out. Shit lads are shit.
There was supposed top be a second installment this weekend with another night out planned for tonight but instead I've decided to lie on the couch with a melancholy expression and eat my own weight in Walkers thai sweet chilli sensations. Hangover scran.
Inabit
@boobleyboo xxx
Twitter Family: @susielovesvodka @staceylouise109 @ladylambanana @kevbaz11 @smitjo89 @sparkybuttsniff @the53s @BootleTweets
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