Monday, 28 February 2011

Goulash With A Girl

Hi

How's it goin?
Seriously, I really want to know. I care about you, you know. How the devil are you? Let me know. Maybe I will write a blog post all about you, just to cheer you up. If you need cheered up. If you don't, then maybe I will write about how tremendous you are feeling. Assuming you are feeling tremendous.

Last Saturday I was blessed with something very rare when you work in the hospitality industry. 

A Saturday night off. 

I suspected this was a mistake on the part of my boss, but who was I to argue? I told Laura of my good fortune and she took the opportunity to book me (her words not mine) for an evenings entertainment.

Laura booked a table at Goulash. A hungarian restaurant in the city centre. As soon as she text me saying it was booked I received a text from my boss asking if I could actually work on Saturday. Sadly I had to inform the boss that I was already booked. I am broke and could use the money, but my time is available on a first come first serve basis.

As we were leaving my place, Althea was doing some weird thing to her hair. I don't know what, some girly hair thing. It was covered in some kind of goop. I found this quite amusing and attempted to take a photo to share with all of you. Sadly she would not let me. So instead I'll just repost this one.

We left Althea to her weird hair goop and headed to town. When we arrived at the restaurant I will admit to feeling slightly nervous. It is down the Adelphi, which is an alleyway just off Union Street (The main shopping street in Aberdeen). I would suggest a new name for this alleyway could be Rape Alley. I didn't get raped there, but I was starting to think that I might happen.(Not because of the company I was in, just the slightly dark location.) It does look like the kind of place someone would take you down and give you a good raping. 

When we arrived at the restaurant I was convinced we were actually in someones living room. Sadly I don't have any pictures to show you, but it really does look like some hungarian guy one day just decided to turn his house into a restaurant.

That is by no means a bad thing.

It is really, really good. The owner is slightly eccentric. He sat us on one table while he set up a nicer one at the window. I asked him why he moved us as we were happy to sit anywhere. I assumed it was because we were a good looking couple. It would be good for business to have such two good looking and happy people be the first thing people saw as they passed.

He said it was because the window table had a window ledge that we can leave the wine on, Laura had been here before, clearly she made an impression as a drinker.
Speaking of wine.

The restaurant is quite small, and they had a table of 16 sitting already when we arrived. So it did feel a tad tight. But only a tad. This table also took up a lot of the owners time. Understandably. We did however receive a very warm welcome and a friendly goodbye as we left. He appeared to be running the place himself with the help of a woman who I assume is his wife, and I think I caught a glimpse of a chef at one point. He did a great job, and he certainly seems like he could quite easily become the king of hungarian banter. Sadly we didn't get to talk to him much, as he was busy with the big table, but we'll def be back as I found him to be incredibly entertaining.

For starter, I had a venison pancake and Laura had a vegetable platter. She thought it would be healthy. I don't think she realised that it was all going to be deep fried.
For mains I had a fillet of beef and Laura had Pork Medallions. 
Everything was really, really good. Two courses each and a bottle of wine and it came to £45. 

When I said it was like going to a restaurant in someones house, I wasn't joking. Laura even told me the ladies toilet has a shower in it. I of course did not believe such a claim. So I sent her back to the toilet with my i-phone to make a video to prove it. Which she then did.


If you can't see the video above then stop reading this crap on facebook and CLICK HERE

After she was done making this video, she fraped me.

Overall I really enjoyed Goulash, and it's nice to know that if you need to have a shower at any point during your meal, there is tone available. A lot of restaurants don't have that option.
I'll def be back, and it gets two thumbs up from me.


That's All For Now

Until Next Time 

Have A Nice

Andy G

If you want to get all the crap I write delivered straight to your inbox then go to www.TheBlogOfAndyG.com and put your email address in the wee box that says "subscribe."
If you do subscribe then you are welcome to come round to Campaworld and use the shower anytime you like. (Call first)

Saturday, 26 February 2011

Let's talk about Text

Hi

How's it goin?

Like I'm sure a lot of you do, I like a good text. It's a handy way to keep in touch and something to keep you occupied when you're bored. I thought I would share with you some of the best text's I've received in the past few months.


Laura claims she was referring to me dedicating a Friendly Friday to her. I don't think that's what she meant.



Back in September of 2009, I wrote about how my friend Jonesy was getting a bit violent towards celebrities. 
He recently had a relapse into this behaviour.


Althea spotted yet another one of my Dopplegangers.


Althea's request for dinner

Laura felt the need to inform me about her sexual activities when I'm not around.



Speaks for itself really. I think everyone should receive a random fact of the day.

True. It is.


The second best text I received that day. 
I'm keeping the best one all to myself.


I do have nice nipples.

And to finish off this rather pointless and dull post, a song. But it's a good song. I strongly suggest you play the video below.


If you can't see the video above then stop reading this crap on facebook and CLICK HERE


That's All For Now 

Until Next Time 

Have A Nice

Andy G

If you want to get all the crap I write delivered straight to your inbox then go to www.TheBlogOfAndyG.com and put your email address in the wee box that says "subscribe."
If you do subscribe then I will send you an amusing text by way of thanks.

Friday, 25 February 2011

A Conversation with The Kill Monster

Hi

How's it goin?

Several weeks ago at school I had a conversation. It's something I do with most of my classmates on a daily basis. I say most, as let's be honest, some people you just don't want to talk to. Anyway, this conversation was recorded for prosperity by Stephen Horne. For those of you who have seen my short film The 10:03 News, Stephen plays Wild Willie, a character he has now sadly killed off. I suspect because several people, (myself included) just abused him. (Not in a sexual way.) Anyway, Stephen was in his own words, "Mesmerised" by my verbal interaction with Scott Kilminster, also known as The Kill Monster.

Here is that conversation presented to you through the medium of a Jpeg.


Stephen seems to have developed a strange interest in my conversations lately. It was he who made the Andy G and KP fall in love audio clip.

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, that my film The Playhouse is on the list to be played at the student showcase at a cinema in Aberdeen in June. Well the first student showcase is this Monday February 28th at The Belmont Cinema in Aberdeen, and Stephens first year film, The Dealer, is going to be shown. I won't post it on here as you should head along to the cinema and see it for yourself. To get you in the mood, here's the teaser trailer. I have seen the film and it's very good. Far better than mine.
Bastard.

If you can't see the video above then stop reading this crap on facebook and CLICK HERE

That's All For Now

Until Next Time

Have A Nice

Andy G 

If you want to get all the crap I write delivered straight to your inbox then go to www.TheBlogOfAndyG.com and put your email address in the wee box that says "subscribe."
If you do subscribe then you will be first on the list for tickets when my film goes to the cinema in June.

Tuesday, 22 February 2011

Conversations From The Club

Hi

How's it goin?

So for the past few weeks I have been enjoying a more regular working schedule. I barely worked from just before christmas until near the end of January, and finances took a bit of a hit. Lately I have been working in The Club more often. I much prefer working in the restaurant, but I will go where I am told like a good little monkey.

Regular readers will have read The Tale Of the Flaming Fashion Show.

Here are some of the other highlights of nights in The Club.

It was a student night, a very busy student night. Over 600 people in the building. And the drunken students were being there usual drunken selves. The end of the night couldn't come fast enough. And when 2 am eventually arrived, the inevitable queue at the cloakroom ensued. 600 people all trying to get their jackets at once, it's chaos. It's like that every week.
One girl (who looked a little bit like Missy Piggy) even said to me,

Miss Piggy Girl: This is ridiculous, it's like this every week you know.

Andy: I'm sorry, theres nothing I can do.

Miss Piggy Girl: Well that's not good enough, it was exactly the same as this last week.

Andy: Well you really should have known better and got your jacket earlier then shouldn't you?

Dozy cow!

Regular readers will know how much I hate name droppers. This is a prime example of name dropping back firing.

About 30 seconds after this conversation, a slightly older man approached me, attempting to go upstairs to use the toilet. Upstairs was closed so I of course told him no. To get to the downstairs toilet, he would need to somehow make his way through the massive queue for the cloakroom that was currently blocking the corridor to the mens room.

He asked if I could get him through the queue. I asked him how he thought I could accomplish this any better than he could. All he had to do was say excuse me to a couple of people, but to him this was apparently an impossible task. He then asked again to get upstairs, 

Drunk Guy: Why can't you let me upstairs?

Andy: Because we're closed up there and I have staff counting money so I can't let you up.

Drunk Guy: Look! I used to be entertainments manager here, I know Vinnie very, very well.

Andy: Ok.

Drunk Guy: Well?

Andy: Well what?

Drunk Guy: Are you going to let me up to use the toilet?

Andy: No, I told you, I have staff counting cash upstairs, I don't know you. You're a stranger to me. You could be a nutter, or a robber.

Drunk Guy: I told you, I use to be entertainments manager in this building and I know Vinnie very, very well.

Andy: I see. Let me ask you, when you were entertainments manager here, how many times did someone try to get away with something by name dropping Vinnie to you?

Drunk Guy: What? What do you mean?

Andy: When exactly were you entertainments manager here?

Drunk Guy: 2006. 

Andy: Really? 2006? That's odd. Because in 2006 I was the restaurant manager upstairs. And I was working in this building 6 days a week. Both in the restaurant and The Club. So don't you think it's odd that we never met? We should have crossed paths at some point surely?

He then walked off in a huff.

Prick. 

Then, last Saturday, it was a salsa night in the club. It's not very exciting. They get a lesson for an hour then it's a salsa disco. Some people take it very, very seriously. It's like watching strictly come dancing but with twats. Actually, its just like watching strictly come dancing. Just no Brucie.

The night starts at 9pm, and at 8:30 the doorbell rang. I went to open the door expecting to find a staff member trying tog e in, or maybe the DJ to get set up. What I found was a woman who looked like an ugly Billie Piper who was apparently desperate to get in.

Andy: Hello, can I help?

Ugly Billie: Yeah, I'm here for the salsa lesson, I'd like to come in.

Andy: Sorry. That doesn't actually start until 9.

Ugly Billie: Ok, I'll just have a drink while I wait.

She then attempts to barge past me. And fails.

Andy: Sorry, maybe I wasn't clear, we don't actually open until 9.

Ugly Billie: 9 o'clock?

Andy: Yes.

Ugly Billie: When's that?

Andy: About an hour after 8.

She then shot me the bitchiest of bitchiest looks.

Ugly Billie: What time is it now?

Andy: About half past 8.

Ugly Billie: So how long until I can come in?

Andy: Well if we're open at 9....

Ugly Billie: Yeah?

She had a very blank expression on her face, I don't think her brain could process all the information that was given to her. Obviously I had presented her with far too complex an equation.

Andy: About half an hour.

Ugly Billie: But why can't I come in now?

Andy: Because it's not 9 yet.

Ugly Billie: So?

Andy: Well we don't open until 9.

Ugly Billie: Uh huh.

Andy: You do understand english don't you?

Ugly Billie: Ummmm, yeah of course. We're talking english aren't we?  So can I come in now?

Andy: No! We are not open until 9pm. There are no staff here yet, I am still setting up, the DJ isn't even here yet, we will not be open until 9pm. 

Ugly Billie: So what you're saying is, I can't come in right now?

Andy: Correct, not for another half hour.

Ugly Billie: Fine then, if you don't want my money. Fuck you!

She then walked off into the night, presumably to the nearest bar and had an equally confusing conversation with some poor barman about the price of a blue wicked and an aftershock.

Fooking people.


So there you have it, three pretty boring and pointless conversations that take up my time as a busy restaurant/night club monkey.

That's All For Now

Until Next Time 

Have A Nice 

Andy G 

If you want to get all the crap I write delivered straight to your inbox then go to www.TheBlogOfAndyG.com and put your email address in the wee box that says "subscribe."
If you do subscribe then if you ever come to Vincents for dinner I will buy you a complementary shot. And I'll have one too. Maybe two or three.

Friday, 18 February 2011

The Tale of the Bratislavan Stag Do: Naked Mud Wrestling, A Stolen Wallet, and A Drink In My Retina!

Hi

How's it goin?

Regular readers will know I went to four weddings this past summer, I've not blogged about my wedding experiences. I did write a draft of a post about one of them, and it was massive. Far too long. So I have decided to compile my experiences into a new book. At the moment it's called The Wedding Blogger, but if you can think of a better title then let me know. It's ages away from being finished as I am incredibly busy with school work, I'll get round to it eventually. Hopefully. I was doing some work on it last week and this got me thinking about other weddings and stag do's I went on.

Back in 2006, my mate Jonesy got married. And everyone knows that before you get married, you have to have a stag do. Or a hen night if you're a girl. But I never get invited to those. I was looking through some of my old photo's and found some photo's from Jonesy's Stag Do. Which I will share with you now.

The stag location was Bratislava, in Slovakia. Jonesy had been there before and had a great time. Plus it was really cheap. Although when we first arrived I got ripped off by a taxi driver, as I paid four times what I should have. Bastards.

What followed was drinking, lots and lots of drinking. And it was cheap drinking too. Which compelled us to drink more. At one point I got a drink thrown in my eye, which led me to scream the very popular phrase,

"Ow, there's a drink in my retina!"

My vision was obviously severely affected. Later that night when I attempted to get out of bed and go to the vending machine to buy some water, I tripped and bashed my head off the radiator nearly splitting my head open.




It hurt. A lot. And apparently we already had three bottles of water in the room.

I think it was a good look for me tho, I'm told chic's dig scars.



On the second night, we dressed Jonesy up as Daffyd from Little Britain.
I think it was a good look for him.

After drinking, and drinking lots, we were informed that our transport had arrived. Rod (the organiser) had something special planned for us. Although he refused to tell us what it was. We all piled into a minibus and off we went. We were driven far, far away. Into what looked like an industrial estate. Most of us were convinced that we were about to be killed and our bodies harvested for our organs. Then we saw, the pub.
Nothing special about this pub, it was just an ordinary pub in the middle of an industrial estate in Bratislava.
EXCEPT, this pub in the middle of an industrial estate in Bratislava was to be the venue for the greatest entertainment I have ever seen.


Naked women, naked women wrestling in mud.
It was awesome!

Jonesy was dragged into the pit and encouraged to take part.
Lucky bastard.

He seem's rather proud of himself in this picture. The first thing he said when he emerged, naked from the pit was:

"It's very cold mud!"

Other highlights from the weekend included:

Dr Kev and Mark perform an experiment with Coke and Mentos.


We bought some wooden weaponry.

And Rod fell asleep in a bar.

There was of course one other highlight from the weekend. Something which shall forever live in infamy. I recently downloaded an app that allows me to turn photo's into comic books. I think it's best to tell you the story like that.
Just keep a close eye on the girls hands.
Now I will admit to being a bit bored the other night, so I turned all the pictures from this incident into a comic book. And then I turned those pictures into a video comic. And then I added opening and closing credits to the video comic.
Like I said I was a bit bored.


If you can't see the video above then stop reading this crap on facebook and CLICK HERE
That's All For Now

Until Next Time

Have A Nice

Andy G

If you want to get all the crap I write delivered straight to your inbox then go to www.TheBlogOfAndyG.com and put your email address in the wee box that says "subscribe."
If you do subscribe then one day I will take you to Bratislava and show you naked women wrestling in mud. It's Awesome!

Wednesday, 16 February 2011

The Tale Of The Crazy Waving Man

Hi 

How's it goin?


I was sitting on the bus home, not really paying attention to where I was, when the bus stopped at the bus stop. As they do. Another bus was at the bus stop on the opposite side of the street and I noticed on the other bus, one of the waitress's from Vincents. I gave her a wave but she didn't see me. I'm not entirely sure why, but for some reason I took great offence to this. 

How dare she not see me when I wave to her from a bus on the other side of the road. 

What a bitch!

I waved more, and more, and more. She still did not see me. Either that or she didn't recognise me and thought I was some kind of nutter who waved at people on buses. Which in all fairness, is what I appeared to be. She did not see me for the whole time I was waving, however the bloke who was sitting three seats behind her did. And he was waving back. He was waving back at me just as furiously as I appeared to be waving at him. He couldn't have been waving at anyone else on my bus as I was the only one on it.

So here I was, in the middle of a "wave off" with a strange man. This man just continued waving. In reality it was probably around 10 seconds, but it felt like hours.

Have you ever waved at a complete stranger for ten seconds straight?

Try it. 

It's longer than you think.

And I didn't even realise, I was still waving. I stopped waving, which seemed to cause great offence to my new friend. He looked angry, and then stood up to get off the bus.

Oh shit!

He was getting off the bus, what if he comes over and sits on this bus. What if I've just initiated some kind of bizarre mating ritual I didn't know about. And it gets worse, the next stop was my stop, the stop right beside my house. I couldn't get off at the stop next to my house. What if he follows me home? What if he follows me home and just stands outside waving?

Oh crap!

I genuinely thought this guy was getting off his bus to come and kill me. 

Or rape me.

Either way it would NOT be fun. 

I saw the crazy waving man get off the bus and cross the road in my direction. Luckily my bus drove off before he could board it and tell me how he wanted to cut off my skin and wear it for his birthday. 
Fooking nutter.

 I stayed on for an extra three stops past mine, just to be safe.


That's All For Now

Until Next Time 

Have A Nice 

Andy G 

If you want to get all the crap I write delivered straight to your inbox then go to www.TheBlogOfAndyG.com and put your email address in the wee box that says "subscribe."
If you do subscribe then I will wave at you next time I see you. Promise.

Monday, 14 February 2011

A Valentines Message





Hi

How's it goin?

Since today is Valentines Day, I thought I better put something romantic on the blog.

Last week I wrote a blog post entitled,


Did you read it?
Probably not, well go back and read it now.

Have you done that?

Good.

On that particular post, you would have seen this video.

If you can't see the video above then stop reading this crap on facebook and CLICK HERE.



My classmate Stephen, took some of the audio from that video and made an audio clip, which I have embedded below. I hope you enjoy it. It's titled

Andy G and KP Fall In Love.

If you can't see the audio player above then stop reading this crap on facebook and CLICK HERE


That's All For Now

Until Next Time

Have A Nice

Andy G

If you want to get all the crap I write delivered straight to your inbox then go to www.TheBlogOfAndyG.com and put your email address in the wee box that says "subscribe."
If you do subscribe then I will send KP round to your house to serenade you. If you do not, I will leave her there for good.

Sunday, 13 February 2011

The Tale Of Last Sunday: A Cock Text, A Fraping, and A Bloody Big Cookie!

Hi

How's it goin? 

After the events of last night. I awoke hungover. Very hungover. And I had sore feet.

I also discovered yet another cock text from Jonny Mountain.


Why he felt the need to text me this at 1:02 am is beyond me.

While I was busy searching for the Nurofen, (everyone knows I love Nurofen and they are also quite fond of me.) Laura Fraped me. For those unfamiliar with Fraping. It is when someone gains access to your facebook account and posts something you would not normally post. Facebook rape. Frape.


This is quite a mild example, I have seen much worse things posted. So in many ways I got off lightly.

After downing our painkillers we then slept until well after 2pm. When we woke we both had a strange craving for a subway sandwich, and then destiny helped us with our craving. I found a book in the post box filled with subway vouchers. 


Winner!

I also used this opportunity to go to big Tesco. Laura had her car with her and since Ivano has been working away it's not easy to get to do a big shop.

I had to buy supplies for tomorrow. For tomorrow I am making a cottage pie. It's for school. One of the four films I am making is an instructional video on how to make a cottage pie. And I do make one hell of a cottage pie.


 Since this post is all about last Sunday, I can tell you dear reader that the filming of "Cooking With Struan" went very well. We made a bloody lovely cottage pie and hopefully I'll have the video edited within a couple of weeks for you to see. During the course of filming, Struan did provide an excellent commentary which has changed the tone of the video for the better. I look forward to sharing it with you.



Back to the day I'm meant to be writing about. When we arrived at Tesco I searched high and low, but I couldn't find the cottage pie isle. I asked an employee and I don't think he even understood what I meant.

What a dick.

After shopping and subway it was time to return home. Where I had another nap.
Then it was dinner time. 

If you can't see the video above then stop reading this crap on facebook and CLICK HERE.

And that's about it for a week in the life of Andy G.
Not very exciting.
But at least I've had something to write about all week.


I hope this diary has kept your boredom demons at bay, and maybe given you a small glimpse into how incredibly dull it is to be me.


That's All For Now

Until Next Time

Have A Nice

Andy G

If you want to get all the crap I write delivered straight to your inbox then go to www.TheBlogOfAndyG.com and put your email address in the wee box that says "subscribe."
If you do subscribe then I will get Jonny Mountain to send you complimentary texts about your genitalia.

Saturday, 12 February 2011

The Tale Of Last Saturday: Drunken Flying, Potential Gayness and very sore feet.

Hi

How's it goin? 

And so the weekend has landed, here's how my Saturday went.

Saturday February 5th 2011

I am fairly certain that the new washing machine is not working properly. Either this or I didn't set it up properly. Nah. It must be broken, that's the only logical explanation. Everything that comes out is absolutely soaking. Obviously it's gonna come out wet, but it's very wet. And dripping all over the floor.

This is worrying.

I spent most of the day in my bed, around half 2 I began to feel guilty about not doing anything productive. So I went out for a run,  I took Grappa The Crazy Killer Demon Dog From Hell with me again. I'm secretly hoping that she will somehow escape from her lead and run under a bus. I would never intentionally kill the dog, even though I fucking hate the thing. But if the dog dies by escaping from me and getting run over by a bus and her brains splatter all over the pavement. Well that's not my fault is it? Most people think the dog is actually really nice. Well it's not. The dog is a dick, and want's to kill me. I have proof.


See?

Tonight Laura and I are going to a Burns Supper. Albeit a delayed one. Burns night was actually over a week ago. But I'm not complaining. It was for her friends pipe band. I had met these guys only once before and they were good banter. 


I was told this was an informal thing, which threw me somewhat. For the better part of two weeks I annoyed Laura constantly about whether or not I should Kilt up!

But this was an informal Burns supper. What should I do? I didn't want to go and be the only guy there NOT wearing a kilt. Laura's mate said I could do whatever I wanted, kilt up or not kilt up. It's a question that has plagued man kind since the beginning of time. 


Well, it's plagued scottish men.


Apparently the band were all going to be in kilts. So should I wear a kilt and blend in? What if someone think's I'm in the band, and force me up on stage to play something? It'll be like that scene out of American Pie 2 when Jim has to play the trumpet and pretend he is a retard.
If you can't see the video above then stop reading this crap on facebook and CLICK HERE


So for the majority of this week, I have been pre occupied about whether or not to kilt up! Then Saturday evening arrived, and the decision was made for me. I looked out my kilt, and discovered that my shirt had not been washed since the last time I wore it. At Kev and Alice's Wedding. And after the events of the wedding my shirt was not in a fit state. You see, dear reader, as I am sure you are aware, I am at times a bit of a drunken moron.
Just look at this for proof.
Or this.
Or even this.
The wedding of Kev and Alice was no exception to my drunken antics. At one point I was slapping Mark's ass with a tambourine. Although I'm not really sure why.


I'm not going to go into the rest of the wedding, as that's a story for another day. However, I will tell you how I ruined my shirt. It was late on in the evening, and Kev was outside having a cheeky fag. Earlier that day he told me he wasn't going to smoke, and if he did I was to stop him. This was a task I did not undertake lightly. As soon as I heard what Kev was doing, I put down my pint next to the three others I had waiting for me. (People kept buying me drinks, I'm not sure why, possibly to see what would happen for comedy value.) I stormed outside as fast as my drunken feet could carry me. However it had been raining outside, and the outside decking was very slippery. And as I stormed outside determined to stop my friend from smoking, I slipped. I didn't just slip a little bit though. I slipped in such an over the top comedy manner. I went flying through the air. I honestly believe that time slowed down and I was moving in slo-mo. At one point as I was in mid air, I thought that perhaps I had finally discovered my latent super power. Maybe I had the ability to fly. Maybe this was my grand moment where my powers would manifest themselves, and I would fly off into the night, to become KILT MAN. But then Gravity took over, I did not fly off, and I still remember being in the air and thinking,


"Well this can't be good."


I came crashing down to the ground with a thunderous thunder. I heard laughing, lots of laughing. I saw pointing, lots of pointing. Then the pointing and laughing combined. People were pointing, and laughing, at me. In my drunken state I searched my brain for some way out of this situation. There must be someway to keep some smidgen of dignity and self respect in this situation. Then I had an idea. I would just stay on the ground.
I just lay there, on the ground in a, "I'm just lying on the deck to chill out" sort of way.
I don't think that was the vibe I was giving off, but it was what I was aiming for. Obviously the deck was very wet, and a bit muddy. Which in turn transferred that mud onto my brand new white shirt. Which now had a slightly brown motif to it. And was ripped. 
The rest of that night is somewhat of a drunken blur. And I had forgotten all about my drunken stumble and ruining of my kilt shirt until the very moment I opened up my kilt bag to put on my kilt shirt.


So back to the present day, my decision was made for me, my kilt shirt was ruined. Yes I had other shirts I could have worn, but I felt this was destiny telling me not to wear a kilt. And I'm glad I didn't. I would have been incredibly over dressed. The only people in Kilts were the band, and most of them changed out of them after they played a couple of tunes. 


The night was being held in a social clubs function. The last time I was in this particular building was for a wake. This visit was definitely more cheery. It was also incredibly cheap. I drank. A lot.
The purpose of the night was a fundraiser for the band. They had food included in the ticket price and then a raffle, you got one free raffle ticket upon entry and you had to pay for more if you wanted. In an attempt to impress Laura's friends I had donated a raffle prize. A gift voucher for Vincents. I was tempted to give them a copy or two of my book, but I have to pay for them. 
Myself and Laura both bought raffle tickets, and I am gutted to say that neither of us won anything.
WTF?
I donated a prize!
The least they could do was fix it so I could win something.
We decided to drown our sorrows in Jaeger Bombs.
Several of them in fact. It was at this point that the night starts to become a bit hazy.


I asked on facebook if any of my pal's were out tonight. This sparked a massive debate.




So my Auntie Pat think's I'm a gay. This is something that my Mum once thought also. When I first got the job on the QE2, one of the first things she said to me was,


"There's a lot of gay boys on ship's Andrew."


And when I came home on my first leave, Mum was on the phone to someone while I was in sitting in the same room. This was the conversation.


"Yeah, Andrew's been home for about a week now, my ironing has tripled and he's been out drinking every night. No he hasn't come home with a girlfriend......... or a boyfriend. At least that would be something."


Then she glared at me. 


Maybe this is something I should bring up with my hetrosexual rep at School.


Anyway, back to the night. We left the venue around 1ish and decided to head home. This sparked a massive debate about which way to go for a taxi. I suggested we walk towards my house and try and flag one down on the way. She said we should walk towards town and get one at a taxi rank. 
I won. We were staying at my house. So it's my rules.
I will admit that my memory of this is incredibly hazy, but this is what happened as best as I can remember it.


About 3 minutes into our walk towards my place. Laura started moaning that her feet were soar because of her shoes.


Fooking women and shoes. I'll never get it. 


I gave her a piggy back for about 500 yards during which time two taxi's past us by. Clearly not stopping because we appeared to be too drunkards staggering home and no taxi driver would be stupid enough to take us. I then stopped the piggy backing in an attempt to look more sober and deserving to passing taxi's. Laura continued to moan, about her feet. After another five minutes of this moaning I couldn't take anymore. I gave her my shoes. She walked home in my shoes and I walked home in my socks.


Laura if you are reading this, (and I know you are)  I gave you my shoes because I am a very nice, sweet, kind man. And since I am such a nice, sweet, kind man, and I gave you my shoes to walk home in, you must promise NOT to read the next paragraph.


Promise?
Ok. good.


Dear reader.
I did not give Laura my shoes to be nice and sweet. I gave her my shoes as it was the only way to get her to stop fooking moaning! Fooking women and shoes. You're all fooking nuts!




Ok Laura you can read on now.

And so ends another fun filled Saturday night in the life of Andy G. Join me tomorrow at the crack of noon, when I tell you...
The Tale of Last Sunday: Hangover sandwiches, smelling of poo and a mega cookie.


That's All For Now

Until Next Time

Have A Nice

Andy G

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