Oh, what a night.

I had an interesting evening. It began with a nice banquet style dinner with some friends, and ended with me scrubbing myself with a wire brush and dettol like a rape victim.

Dinner. It was pretty rad. It was at one of those awesome Singaporean places that are really tiny and the staff speak very little english. Language barriers aside, things went swimmingly. Then I discovered the robo-toilet.

OH MY GOD THE ROBO-TOILET! It's amazing. It automatically steam cleans itself when someone has left, so no shit stains in the bowl people! Or smells! Fuck yeah! I will be using Robo-toilet from now on. This was obviously the highlight of my night.

Next was on to Maguires. I have fond memories of this particular place - lots of fuzzy, warm memories. Tonight, however, was different. We walked in, and some drunk bitch had Linkin Park on repeat on the juke box, followed by "The Beautiful People" by Marilyn Manson about 10 million fucking times. Then the band started. And folks, let me assure you, they were terrible. Just terrible. They were out of time, old and were heckling people wearing footy jerseys. I was beginning to get a tad frustrated with the entire situation when we decided to move along to another old haunt aptly named Kate O'Reillys.

We arrived at Kates only to discover the atmosphere was decidedly worse, so the boys made the executive decision that we would move along to Wilkies, or as it is now known, the Booby Bar. This place was packed with all types of males, eyes glued to the non-existant tits of the bar staff. It was a teensy bit akward for my friend and I, especially when this drunk, overweight and balding jerk with a terrible beard sidled up to our table and began to interperative dance. He started moving closer and closer to me, so I was understandably terrified and demanded that we leave. Unfortunately, Interperative Dance Guy followed.

We then decided that we would go to this club called "The Code". I begrudgingly handed over my entry fee, and began to walk up the stairs. Well, I tried anyway, cos my feet were literally sticking to the floor. I was surrounded by girls in teeny tiny dresses that I SWEAR were no older than 12 that kept barging into me and yelling "WOOOOOO" at increasingly loud volumes. And the music. Oh god. The music. Terrible. I went downstairs to have a cigarette to keep my rage in check, and as I was walking back up said stairs, I had the unfortunate task of following a...rather portly young lady in a short orange skirt. As I mentioned before, the floors were sticky (probably with a mixture of vomit, semen and shame) and she was lumbering up the centre of the staircase, so I couldn't simply walk around her. Then, it happened. Her shoe came off two stairs above me. She bent over, and ladies and gentleman, what I saw will forever be burned into my retinias. IT CANNOT BE UNSEEN. Bitches need to learn that you MUST wear pants at all times. That was it. Game Over. I turned around and walked out.

When did I become such a grumpy old maid? Goodness.