Before I go out and get hammered

I figured that I might as well write something in here while I am still coherent, given that in a matter of hours, hopefully, I will be drunk off my face. It's not that I go out and get pissed every night, or even every week for that matter, but there are certain times when there is nothing I like doing more than getting hammered with some of my favourite people and seeing where the night takes me (although hopefully not to Wicklow again...urgh). Tonight, we are heading to one of our favourite Dublin pubs (which will remain nameless). We used to frequent the place on a weekly basis, but that was before we grew up and began sampling everything else that this fantastic city has to offer. I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with going to this particular pub every week without fail, it's just not something that I like doing anymore. Over the past few weeks, it's become increasingly apparent to me that I am in a completely different place to where I was this time last year - and I couldn't be happier. There is a certain group of people who, for all intents and purposes, are completely and utterly two-faced, and I am sorry to say that I once desperately wanted to be a part of it - I even compromised who I was for quite a while to fit in with them. But we all have to grow up some time, and one of the most difficult things I've had to do over the past six months is learn to love myself, no matter what others think (although obviously, if my friends tell me that I'm behaving like an asshole, I generally stop!). I hope that particular group of people aren't there tonight, actually. I hate the fake hugs, from one of them in particular, who I know openly hates me behind my back. I'll never understand why people bother doing that, because at our age it just is completely pathetic to me.

Now, the pub we are heading to tonight is fairly infamous, whether one lives in Dublin or some backwater place in the arse end of nowhere. It's public opinion that the only way to enjoy it is under the influence of either drugs or alcohol, or both. It is a shithole and a haven, where I have been started on, threatened, felt up, badmouthed, beaten up, fucked off my face on pills and, naturally, hammered. It is a place where a lot of blazing rows have taken place, a fair amount of tears have been shed and more than one heart has been broken. Having said all of that, it also holds, and will continue to hold forever, a special place in my heart and I will sorely miss it when I head to Germany next year. It seems crazy to be saying all of this, when so much bad shit has happened there, but I really do love the place. I'll never forget when me and Noodles introduced Scooby to it, and she was so amazed that such a place even existed without her having visited it before. It is truly a mindfuck, and the people there are some of the most subversive (and conformist) that this fair city has to offer. Now that I'm writing all of this, I cannot wait to go! Hopefully there won't be any drama though, but there hasn't been much of that since we moved on from certain assholes who always managed to ruin our night no matter how much fun we were having...

I am also glad to be going out because I got my hair done today, which for most people is a pleasure and a treat, but for me is the very definition of the phrase "No pain, no gain" (emphasis on the word 'pain'). My trips to the hairdresser usually last between one and a half to three hours (the longest was eight hours, when I first decided to lift all of the blue, green, purple and red from my hair and bleach it entirely). A significant amount of that time is spent sitting in a chair, writhing from the pain and trying desperately not to scratch the uncontrollable itchiness of my scalp, while pretending to flick through 'Heat' and praying that someone will drop a copy of 'Vogue' in my lap. I also have to go through treatments to make my hair less like straw. The place I go to is unspeakably fancy, and I stick out like a sore thumb in my drainpipes and Cons, amidst all of the couture and Christian Louboutins. But everyone is really friendly, mainly because they know my mother, and as long as I chat and smile my way through it, I'm usually grand. It's all worth it in the end though, except that I know Saz is going to rip the piss out of me tomorrow for looking like either Lucius Malfoy or Heidi Montag, or a mad amalgamation of the two.

That was probably boring as fuck. That is, if anyone besides Scooby and Noodles actually reads this shit... I should probably get dressed soon, if I'm to do naggins beforehand with Noodles. I hope it's not too cold and/or wet... Bring on the drinking!

Song of the day: The Eurythmics - Sweet Dreams (it made my smile when I heard it in the hairdresser).