Well, after being a bit lethargic and really not bothered about going out yesterday, I had a really great time.

I left my house with the annoyance that my camera failed to be delivered, which was slightly annoying, as this meant I couldn’t take any pictures on my birthday.

Anyway, off I went to the Waterfront for some of their famous pizza, accompanied by Andy, David, Tim, Mum, Dad, Stepdad, Nan and Granddad. We had some damn fine pizza and a few drinks, a few touchy conversations and some very entertaining girls on the table next to us. Of course, my Dad had to continue the tradition of Bart’s Tavern and get me a B52. A shot of 3 very weird spirits, one of which being a melon liquor, the other being Baileys, and the other is still unknown to me. I wasn’t looking forwards to drinking it. It looked like something you’d see on Art Attack.

Anyway, down that went, much to the discomfort of my stomach.

Myself, Andy, David and Tim then departed to the Globe, for more drinking!

Of course, I couldn’t possibly go to a pub in the universe without someone saying “You’re George’s son, right!?”. Typical. One day he is going to go a pub and be greeted with “You’re Dan’s father, aren’t you!?”.

So, after more drinking, meeting up with my Dad and Robin in The Globe, and having amusing conversations with middle-aged women who were talking to us about their daughters. My Dad said it was “compulsary”, or something, that I had to have a tequila slammer, which probably wasn’t the best of ideas after the bad tequila night I had in December.

We headed to Timepiece after that. It was samba night, which was somewhat entertaining. Surprisingly the doorman didn’t take any notice of our presence and didn’t ID any of us, which was good considering Andy is 17.

After the Timepiece closed there was nowhere to go, really. Robin made a valiant attempt at trying to contact DIAL-A-BEER, but alas that plan folded. So, home we all headed, going our seperate ways. I made a stop with Andy at The Golden Horn for one of their delicious burgers, which was indeed delicious, and then stayed at Andy’s house.

I woke up this morning at around 8 with no headache. However, when I went to the bathroom my stomach didn’t seem at all happy with me, for some perculiar reason. I forced myself to throw up, and once again wished I had my camera with me, as my vomit was an awesome shade of violent purple. Just the colour I’ve been wanting to paint my bedroom. Mixed with the bread from the burger where I could still see the sesame seeds, it was good.

I couldn’t be bothered to make it up the stairs, so I crashed out again in Andy’s living room. He made an appearance at around 10:30, his first words to me being “You look like rape”.

We lounged around on the couches for a while, not really speaking much, apart from the invention of the term “grape”.

Andy: “Grape?”
Me: “Grape?”
Andy: “It’s like rape… but great.”

Andy had a shower and such, and finally got me to get up off of my “fat ass” and head to the bus stop, as he had to go into town. Thankfully the bus came pretty quickly. It was just my luck, though, to get on the bus that was stupidly hot, filled with chattering old people with a learner driver. He was driving this bus at such a slow speed, I was so tempted to shout something. Then this oriental woman grabbed her eight hundred million carrier bags, which looked as if they’d been sorted aphabetically, and moved to the front of the bus. She forgot one of her bags, and I couldn’t just leave it there. So I got up and grabbed it, moving through the swarms of heat and old people and gave her the bag. She insisted on making a big deal out of it, and started squeaking thankyous. In the end I just had to turn around and sit down again.

When I finally got home, I collapsed on the couch for a bit. Acknowledged the fact that my camera had arrived (despite the fact we paid nearly £12 for a pre-noon delivery, which was for the day before. Novatech refunded the money, but that’s not the point).

My Mum cut herself a piece of my chocolate cake, which I just couldn’t take, due to events that occured in the past. I stumbled upstairs to my bedroom and crashed out until around 3. Woke up with some nice drool-covered pillows, a taste which is describable only as the plague in my mouth, but feeling somewhat better.

I went downstairs and opened my camera, as my Mum made me a cup of tea (thankyou!). The camera was silver, not black, although it was in the box for the black one… So it’s Casio’s fault, not Novatech’s. I think my Mum is currently in the process of complaining to Novatech for the third time, like an old woman who lives in Devon with constantly changing weather, to try and get some more money refunded. However, the black camera is no longer on their website, and the order information doesn’t show any signs as to any specific colour for the camera, so that is all somewhat mysterious.

All in all, though, a good 18th. No more B52s for me, though.