The day after the night (in the strip club) before.
The strip club was mildly interesting. Entertaining as far as it can be – I think we milked it as far as it could go – but I won’t be jumping at the bit to go to one again.
Spending a night with good mates, drinking whiskey, talking rubbish… Yeah, that is really good. (As to the services offered by the club, I am bound by secrecy. Sorry. No, not sorry at all, really :p)
On the con side, it was expensive – not just to get in, but also the drinks. (As to the services offered by the club… oh, you get the idea.) And there is, of course, the sharp realisation that no-one talks to you because they’re interested in you, or want to make chit chat. If you don’t take out your wallet in five minutes, they’re off (their loss :p). The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that er, ‘staff’ outnumbered potential customers about two to one.
…and the Ugly
Going to bed on a week day, more drunk than I’ve been in a long time, and at 3.30AM, is a funny thing to do. Then again, the concept ‘week day’ has little meaning when you’re unemployed :p.
But spending the day in bed, without even a great big hangover, that was just weird. Being sick nor dehydrated, and no big thudding feeling in my head, it was strange that only a tiny persistent headache could keep me down until the evening. Oh well.