Tis What It Is To Be Young.

Saturday came gleaming in thru my curtains at 2pm as I awoke. Feeling thankfully re-freshed this time around I essentially bummed around the house and caught up on some "late-min" Uni assignments. (You have to hate making lop-sided zoetropes and thermatropes). Wondering how my gf was going at a party down at Carrum Downs I quickly sent her a msg "MSN style" and toddled off on my endeavour for a decent night myself with Mum and Dad. Alls well was going well, particularly with lasagne, pasta, and other fatty feasts. VB included. Upon presenting my independant Yr 12 Films on their wide screen TV we promptly left with my long-time-known-each-other-since-we-were-knee-high-to-grasshoppers friends Ryan and Kristy. Once entering Kristy's flat in Richmond we took part in some enlightening drinks of Vodka. Me being the standard joker I can be sometimes had a joke about good ol Black Label Lemonade. For some utterly bizarre reason Kristy took offence much to my sheer surprise. "Dont knock this lemondade. I try so hard to make sure I have everthing you like here. Im doing pretty well for what I get." This is where it first started. WHAT THE HELL? Being bedazzled by such an unpredictable defense system I repeatedly stated I was joking around and drink the stuff with some amount of love for it. We left it at that and went off to "Studio" Nightclub.
This place would have to be the biggest sleaze-joint. We encountered problems as there was a 2 guy\2 girl ratio. Their preference being: majorly girls are welcome. The night was fine with dancing to retro music, R N B and what-not, try-hard wankers trying to pick up and some slutty little teens who creeped in somewhere. Throughout the night I had became very concerned for my gf as I had tried ringing her to see if she got there safely and have a general chit-chat bout the state of our parties. 5 attempts later; no answer. Not until later I got through at 4am-ish and found she was safe and sound. For some odd reason Kristy profusely apologised to me for having a "go" at me over the lemonade fiasco. Me being the "she'll be right-dont woory about-its all good-happy go lucky" fellow I am told her not to woory about it and and its all good. We danced like crazed nocturnal creatures till some ungodly hour in the morning ending in us pissed at Maccas Richmond, me spilling a sundae but successfully dodging it from having a "white stain" on my lap and collapsing in a heap.