Parties One

Went to a party last night. It was hosted by some twenty-something muso called Steve. Red light-bulbs, small smoke machine and laptop downloaded music. The guy Steve is a wannabee light popstar/journo student with several high-maintenance, twenty-something journo-school chicks as flatmates, whom I deliberately avoided meeting. I'm not aroused by pretty, over-dressed bimbos with equally dull rugby-playing boyfriends who appear magically from the background only when someone starts a conversation with 'their' woman. Music, wine with Kane and Seann and conversation with some flatuent right-winger and Nick Archer. I don't mind dancing with Kane as he always does a variation of the 'funky-chicken'. 'Clothes-Horse' and her plump friend turn up and CH starts to hit on Seann (which I was tempted to tell her was a complete and total waste of time). CH was skinny, pretty, brunette and very dull, and kept telling us of the virtues of her boyfriend, while she stimulated humping Seann's knee. The plump girl seemed to like me, but I was not in the mood, especially as my cough was still bad and she had CH as a friend (bad taste). But the plump chick was the only even remotedly interesting woman at the party. Ofcourse, as things go, she left early and I failed to get her number. After the tiddly Seann, argued with Kane and left. I went to sit by the fire. My flame-watching was rudely interrupted by some drunk arsehole telling his journo-bim girlfriend that although he has seen other women, that he still 'loved' her and didn't want her to dump him. He 'forgave' her spending time with some equally boring arsehole, that he wanted to punch out. They embraced, and a very drunken fashion. I took that as my exit and walked home.