Morning after…
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged with gatecrasher, gossip, pulling on 08/17/2008 11:58 am by rachelOw. And ow again. And, what the hell, let’s have another one. OW. I have a small army of sadistic goblins banging nails into my brain. Or it could be the alcohol: possibly the more likely scenario but I’m not ruling anything out.
Read it and weep, abroad-people: you missed the post-results celebration at Gatecrasher last night. I know you’re gutted now, but time heals. And six months in sunnier climes might help n all.
Anyway, the gossip, the news, the full on dirrrrty… I’ll break it down person by person, using bullet points cos I’m organised like that.
- Fluff: I probably shouldn’t gossip about your bruv Bicks’. But obviously I will. Fluff spent the night sucking face with someone called Nikki. I know that’s how you spell it, cos that’s how she introduced herself. She had those square-end false nails that WAGs like and hair so straight you could have followed it indefinitely (a maths joke for you there ; )). He razzle-dazzled her with his MA film-student ways. Something tells me they won’t be seeing each other again.
- Callie: cried twice. Once because of the evil in the world. Once because of the beauty of the streetlights reflected in the puddles. I know.
- Chris: pulled a 30 year old and ended up at her place. Where he discovered she had two kids. Who were being babysat by Sadie Miller!! (Oh you know: moved schools in year 8 due to B.O-based bullying.) Freaked the poor lad out.
- Jones: tripped over someone’s bag and incurred the wrath of a student wearing a Star Trek T-shirt. Needless to say, blows weren’t exchanged.
- Everyone else: no gossip to report.
What’s that you’re saying? What did I get up to? Oh ha ha, you don’t need to hear about that. Ha ha. Ha.
Oh OK I pulled a 17 year old. Happy now? You can say what you like, I don’t care. He was fit and a good kisser. And age ain’t nothing but a number. It was confined to Gatecrasher and we didn’t exchange numbers. All good.
Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go and lie under a duvet in front of Halloween. No better hangover cure than a bit of ‘80s gore.

Help me find out what happened to my Uncle.
