6pm -“ Fall out of shower. Greet housemate. Turn on Simpsons rerun. Debate merits of Professor Frink’s scientific method. Dress.
6.20pm -“ Style hair.
6:50pm -“ Attempt identification of leftovers. Decide that without access to genetic sequencer/ CSI-style reveal-all ultraviolet torch, accurate determination of what it was, what it is and what it was intended to be is virtual impossibility. Classification: risotto.
6:53pm -“ Risotto has become brown-white mass with angry looking bubbles. Possibly sentient. Google: mould -“ high in protein, generally lacking in self-awareness. Decide to eat anyway. Squeals heard when stabbed with splade -“ just the neighbours?
7pm -“ Borrow eye-liner.
7:02pm -“ Borrow make-up remover. Wait for eye to stop watering. Ask flatmate to apply eye-liner.
7:05pm -“ Re-style hair.
7:20pm -“ Rinse hair. Start over.
7:37pm -“ Coffee.
7:41pm -“ Brush teeth. Practise winning smile. Apply lip-gloss. Re-try smile. Fall a little more in love with the handsome devil giving me the eye.
7:43pm -“ Apply cologne liberally.
7:46pm -“ Wonder which reactive properties in coffee, low-level bacterial life-forms and cologne cause hiccups. Hold breath.
7:50pm -“ Feel light-headed. Sit down. Breathe again. Fucking hiccups!
7:51pm -“ Message around to see if anyone’s going out.
7:53pm -“ Contemplate eternal question of to hat or not to hat. Make mental list of cool hat-wearers in history. Decide Bogart was an overrated, one-note actor. Wonder whether I should be a private investigator. Genghis Khan conquered Asia in a hat. Absence of furry hat from wardrobe could be flaw in plans for global domination. Mental note: purchase furry hat.
8:06pm -“ Curse friends who feel that employment obligations outweigh fun.
8:30pm -“ Crossword done. Sudoku done. Horoscope advises retreating to a lead-insulated bunker to escape the effects of Uranus on my financial affairs. Hehe -¦ Uranus!
9:30pm -“ Check hair once more for any indications of recalcitrance. Gather night survival kit. The night has begun.
9:42pm -“ Return to apartment. Collect phone. Try again. Yay!
10:03pm -“ Decide I could be peppier. Buy V.
10:16pm -“ Stop to get money from cat-consuming hole-in-the-wall. Try to stop hand from shaking. V maybe has got us too peppy. Dancing to ATM beeps. Wonder if R2-D2 speaks same dialect. Just give me my money, you confounded construction of rusted-out scrap! Abuse works. I win $100!
11:04pm -“ Stop at Costa’s Super-Greasy Kebab Emporium. Purchase slice of day-old meat-lover’s. For an extra dollar I can have a second piece. But I don’t want a second piece. But it’s just one more dollar. I really only want one piece. Fifty cents. I only want a piece of pizza, bargain notwithstanding. Okay, fine! Just take the extra piece. Escape freaky pizza-pusher taking possibly drug-laced/ definitely salmonella-infested bonus -“ give to homeless woman I never have money for. Doubt the viability of pizza slices as valid tender at liquor stores. Apologise.
11:27pm -“ Grand Stonewall entrance. Trip on step. Recover. Exude air of unflappable cool. Shoot snooty glare at tubby geriatric laughing at the bar. Push through crowd. Cheek kiss: Aaron, Alex, Jon&Nathan, Brad -¦ Recognise guy I was too drunk to notice hitting on me last week. Say hi. Apparently he took snub personally. Shrug. Reach bar.
11:42pm -“ Wait patiently at bar.
11:50pm -“ Wait less patiently at bar.
11:57pm -“ Flail cash wildly in hope of placing order in semaphore. Angry barman asks what? Shout order. Repeat order. Change order and simplify. Receive something -¦ receive gratefully. Wince at taste. Take change. No tip.
12:08am -“ Survey room. See Sexy Toni. She’s dancing with Some Guyâ„¢. Rating: meh. Her friends remember me as Dancing Guy. Breeders through the Looking-Glass. Kiss wife Mandy on lips. Shake husband’s hand. Finish rancid drink. Drag Toni onto stage. Displace Twinky McShirtless who glowers before continuing his sales pitch to avid forty-somethings.
12:24am -“ We dance dirty. I lick her from cleavage to hairline. She shimmies down, biting my singlet. Undoes belt -“ saucy minx! Forty-somethings hoot/ holler. Barman wags finger. McShirtless knows a good thing; dances close from behind. Mmmm -¦ sweaty gay meat in bisexual sandwich. Wonder if cows can be bisexual. Wonder if Macca’s should research new range: Gay burgers -“ The oppressed white meat. Toni and McShirtless work on symmetrical hickies. Make eye contact with Jon&Nathan. They’ve got a friend. Rating: interest.
12:51am -“ New drink time. Important to remain hydrated. Decide barman can handle straight double vodka. He can’t. Shake booty over to J&N. This is Jason, he’s from Canamanadia. I say he’s slow, ehhh? Turns out he is: ehh -¦ an exchange student experimenting a world away from a witless family. How original. Nah, he doesn’t dance. Nah, he’s not really into movies. Last book he read was LOTR. Am unable to even feign interest any longer.
1:03am -“ Second floor not too full yet. Feels like a wake before the reading of the will.
1:03:42am -“ Top floor. Chest-thundering bass. Lean crowd milling in the dark = easy bar access. Take advantage. Barwench brews a mean long/ bull. I down it fast. Watch the shifting dark crowd, guessing interest by silhouettes: if bipedal with a nose were only criteria for attraction this would be much easier. Run into a friend-of-a-friend’s-ex. Asks if I want to take half a cap. Head back. Swallow.
1:26am -“ The ice-tea’s hit and the dancefloor moves beneath me. Hey, I’m Nick. David. We dance closer. D notices the heat; wants to take his shirt off; says he’s nervous. I tell him to do what’s comfortable. I think about the Land of Do-As-You-Please. Shirt’s gone -“ he hasn’t. Nervous, but dancing still. Closer still. He likes the way I smell -“ cigarettes/ cologne/ alcohol/ sweat? His hands find sweat-slick skin at my waist. Kiss. I think he has a loose tooth -“ it’s a tongue-ring. Dave has to refill his water-bottle; asks if I’ll be here when he gets back. I think about giving him my number.
2:04am -“ Re-meet friend-of-ex’s-whatever. What did we take? A cap? Like E but smoother. Better. What’s better? The effect. Isn’t that subjective? Or objective? I always confuse those two; like C.S. Lewis and Lewis Carroll -“ mathematician, you know; funny story about Queen Victoria asking for his books. Now there was an ugly queen! I can’t stand people who don’t laugh. What? People who aren’t amused. Huh? I need a drink. The beat distracts us.
3:21am -“ Woman standing at the foot of the stairs offers a smoke. She loves a guy in make-up. There’s nothing sexier. Am I really gay? What? This is a gay bar? She doesn’t speak sarcasm. She buys us lolly-water. We dance blurry. We kiss. Why not? Her tongue/ teeth/ gums are a sick-sweet gobstopper. I talk with a guy -“ she sways nearby. Puts her number in my phone. Says her name is Anne Frank. I make some joke about Nazis pulling Jews out of closets before I’ve thought it through. She doesn’t get it; says she’s going; I should call her. I don’t like this song. Catch an ex’s eye. I am the Stair Master.
>Time missing. If found, please call 0402 XXX XXX -“ generous reward