So the new year's resolution was to Get Out More, even though I don't like it much, does there always have to be the doof doof music and the drinking and the garbled shouting, because I would rather talk and get to know someone. Anyone, really. But I was running out of excuses and lies to tell my friends, mum can only be Coming To Visit Tomorrow so many times before people start looking at you sadly and shaking their head.

Two nights in a row, a parade of red stamps up my arm. At least with Being A Hermit you never had to have that brief period of vodka-induced confidence when you dance and dance and be happy and somewhat engaging and think Hey baby! Those dance classes are paying off! Because it only lasts for appoximately 30 minutes before the old self-consciousness and hyper-awareness fades back in, brain first and then oozing back into the body, all heavy and blah. That's when I say, D'oh. I'm still the same big dork, just with added jelly limbs, smudgy make-up, skin stinking of other people's nicotine. Can't dance for shit and there's a blinding headache just around the corner. That's when I say, Can we please go home now? I have drunken emails and blog entries to write.

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28 thoughts on “Sozzle

  1. It’s the drunken comments you leave at other people’s sites that are the most special.


  2. Hmmm… Shall I hold my hand up? I could well qualify as sad and pathetic. Yes, I think I will.

    Anyway, I know what you mean about the ‘doof doof’ music, and the impossibility of having a decent conversation.

    But is it really a choice between being a hermit, and going to those clubs? Do your friends not enjoy decent conversation in decent venues?

    Perhaps the thing to do is take a more leading role in the organisation of social happenings. You know, steer things in a more Shauny compatible direction?

    Anyway, don’t count yourself as ‘sad’ or ‘pathetic’ just ’cause nightclubs are not really your thing. Your worthiness is of a greater nature πŸ™‚

  3. Drunken comments left at sites or via email are always best if you don’t remember sending them! πŸ˜€

    [Or drunken phone calls you don’t remember making… oops?]

  4. My drunken emails are a sight to behold, but I’ll say this: my drunken answering machine messages are priceless. My friends tend to tape them for future blackmail purposes.

    There’s something about large quantities of alcohol that loosen one’s inhibitions toward talking to an answering machine that, by nature, cannot talk back.

    Rather disturbing, that.

  5. I used to write drunken emails and then in the morning I’d be freaked because I wouldn’t know what I’d said. ΒΆ But then I’d look in the Sent folder and they were almost always unembarrassing and with good grammar.

  6. My my, I had my own drunken experience this weekend, stumbling online and trying to have a conversation with a few people, who seemingly got quite bored of speaking to someone who couldn’t spell “bye” and they slowly disappeared. Actually, I thought I was doing pretty well, carefully stabbing at the keys thinking “Yes, I got that word right!” only to see that I called someone a “purse” instead of a “person”..

    And if you ask me, sending drunken emails at home is much better than being drunken at a club.

  7. Nightclubs suck. You should spend more time at Tuggeranong private houses. How and I going to get this picture card back to you, btw? I’ve finished with it.

  8. Don’t worry, Shauny sweets, I’m sad and pathetic too. I went to a friend’s housewarming on Friday night, which was an incredibly depressing experience because – while I knew just about everyone at the party – I sat in a corner just about the entire night. I’ve dropped out of touch with so many of them that I’m not part of their lives… I’m just old and boring. Sigh.

  9. What’s so good about going out anyway? I can’t stand nightclubs. Yep, uni student, over here, doesn’t like nightclubs. Especially in Canberra. You didn’t go to the Moose, or Southpac, or anything dodgy like that, did you? Mainly, I hate, like you said, not being able to talk to people. Maybe you’re just a pub girl at heart, Shauny. πŸ™‚

    Only time I go out these days is to go gothing. Good music. Interesting people to look at. Wanna come some time? πŸ™‚

  10. Ah yes, the drunken voicemail messages – indeed i am a master of those, and my friends keep mine too. Apparently their fav is the “almost got arrested” slur. You just need to find your place shauny & then dominate your friends will in order to make it their place too. Or you could do what I normally do – do your own thing at home with the people drinks and music you like – without the smoke. And you cant meet new friends if you always bump em for coffee now can you?

  11. *lol* You are not alone:) I keep telling myself that, “I really should get out more,” or, “I’m being reclusive for not reason.” Truth is, I just have more fun being a “homebody”:)


  12. shauny, dear, if you don’t want to go to clubs, don’t! I like to ‘get out’ every once in a while, but the dance club scene has rarely, if ever, agreed with me. [Getting felt up by half-drunk strangers just doesn’t appeal, for some reason. ;)]

    My suggestion: find a good coffee house. There are some interesting people to watch at the local java joint, and they (and the music) are generally much quieter. πŸ˜‰

  13. Yeah, Amy’s drunken phone messages are funny. πŸ™‚

    The occasional frat party is fun for me, but after a while, I regress out to the bonfire to talk to just a few people rather than shout at everyone at once. And I usually find someone there that feels the same way. I never take her home, though …

  14. I count myself lucky to have received a drunken Shauny email message. Now I need to try hard not to anger the gods-that-be so that I might get a drunken Shauny phone call next time. πŸ˜‰

  15. Here’s a leaf out of my drunken a-viking notebook from a night club – “….the incessant doofing of the beat is relentlessly causing my beer to hate me… I can’t hear anyone speaking… I think the girl next to me wants to snog me… Service, dammit! I pay taxes….”
    And then I discovered drinking spirits in large quantities, and voila, my notebook entries now say things like, “… bork. bastards, they’ll pay… leon johnson the bastard… bastardss!!! ”
    I rest my case.

  16. It’s not a good night if my make up isn’t smudged by the end of the night *hehe* πŸ™‚ xx

  17. Chook, forget drunken embarrassment posts. I’ve posted far worse, far often. And then rung people drunkenly at 3am. Which means they get the benefit of hearing me sozzled just after lunch, down there.

    It’s natural. Call it a Pulp attitude, but going out at night can, without the right people/attitude/pair of pants be nothing less than soul-destroying. In some cases, you could adapt Morrissey and start singing “Every Night Is Like New Year’s Eve” – which is bad.

    But cheer up. Rather than barfing in a gutter, you were being meditative. Which is preferable, I assure you.

  18. Oh fuck yes, the Pulp thing. So I don’t go out much anymore.

    At least I’m not the only one who sent inappropriate messages while drunk. (Tho’ I guess I meant what I said in them. Heh.)

  19. Nothing better than waking up with a head full of cotton without any recall of the night before.

    So you call your girlfriend: “Did I misbehave a lot?”. And she says, consolingly: “No more than usual.” Oooooh. Damn. Damn. “But then, everyone else was drunk too.” Oh, thank god!

    Or you wake up and you’re bruised all down your left side. And you have to be told by your friends that you keeled over with the bar stool while laughing at a particularly silly joke.

    Or the mists of a particularly slimy, dark-brown hangover get dispelled double-quick by a call from a male friend, thanking you for the night before… (AAAAAHHH! WHAT!! WHERE!! HOW!!!) … and it turns out you showed your tits in the pub at 3.30am…

    All VERY good reasons to stay home. Or maybe take knitting lessons.

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