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Civilized Goths in Pub Out(r)age
Jan. 23rd, 2005 11:04 amI met some goths yesterday and got drunk. Everyone was dressed to the nines, with their shiny black boots, pressed band t-shirts and slick hair. Even the piercings seemed to glow underneath the Ice Wharf's lights. And then there was me, uber caj, uber low tolerance, trying not to fall asleep to conversations about cellphones. Then someone took a photo of me with my eyes rolled up, my tongue sticking out, and I'm sure it's going to be plastered all over the net and I'll have to ask for it to be removed because eventhough I said I don't mind any pictures of myself when it comes to pictures with your tongue sticking out, with that yellow streak that always appears on the muscle, then you really don't want random strangers looking at it. Tongues are very private.
There was a surprise high turnout of goths. The pub itself, which I had never been to before, had a large non-smoking area (yet my clothes still stank this morning), a vast bar counter and low music. I spent most of the afternoon at the smokers table, having to watch them leave for their nicotine breaks every 15 minutes, then return for conversations about 24-hour drinking, movies, evilness on Livejournal and skinheads with skirts. Goths on other tables would lift their pints at me, wave hello, or call me over.
I had nice conversations with people I already knew and with some new faces. As the afternoon progressed, and I downed more pints, I could feel my speech get slurred. Why, damn you all, was I the only one to get drunk?? Very unfair. I think there was some mild teasing of my person when I tried to buy pudding and fingers for some miscreants. And, later, I found myself discussing how certain goth women are very sexy and which good one-liners should be used to pick up chicks! This is very bad behaviour for a gay man... I lay the blame, of course, on the alcohol and can only feel happy that I managed to get home fairly quickly, eat leftover pizza, drink hot chocolate with marshmellows, watch Brat Camp, then fall dead asleep...
Oh, and I danced around my bedroom to The Adicts Chinese Take Away.
There was a surprise high turnout of goths. The pub itself, which I had never been to before, had a large non-smoking area (yet my clothes still stank this morning), a vast bar counter and low music. I spent most of the afternoon at the smokers table, having to watch them leave for their nicotine breaks every 15 minutes, then return for conversations about 24-hour drinking, movies, evilness on Livejournal and skinheads with skirts. Goths on other tables would lift their pints at me, wave hello, or call me over.
I had nice conversations with people I already knew and with some new faces. As the afternoon progressed, and I downed more pints, I could feel my speech get slurred. Why, damn you all, was I the only one to get drunk?? Very unfair. I think there was some mild teasing of my person when I tried to buy pudding and fingers for some miscreants. And, later, I found myself discussing how certain goth women are very sexy and which good one-liners should be used to pick up chicks! This is very bad behaviour for a gay man... I lay the blame, of course, on the alcohol and can only feel happy that I managed to get home fairly quickly, eat leftover pizza, drink hot chocolate with marshmellows, watch Brat Camp, then fall dead asleep...
Oh, and I danced around my bedroom to The Adicts Chinese Take Away.
