I'm rubbish

Oh dear, I've been a bad lad out here in London. This time I have to blame, paradoxically, the high cost and low cost of beer. Let me explain. This beverage, like everything else here, is astronomically expensive. A single pint can will generally cost about five dollars, and even store bought beer costs a shade under two dollars per can. Ouch. So when a bar is running a cheap drink special, people come in hordes. Or droves. Or droves of hordes. Whatever. Anyway, the point of all this is that there is a large bar imaginatively named "The American Sports Cafe" near Picadilly Circus that has £1 pint night on Tuesdays, a fact they advertise to all incoming college students in the area by handing out fliers at all the dorms. Naturally enough the place attracts a large number of people...

Many people from my building have been going to this bar with a sort of religious devotion, the same kind of irrational attachment I've previously seen Gregg Kemp exhibit for his god "Mazda". So last night I decided to go along and see what this place had to offer. But first, being the cheapskate that I am, I polished off a few glasses of wine with dinner, because one pound for a pint still isn't cheap enough for me. Cost of my wine? Free, courtesy of the local University. And by the time I got to the bar, I decided that £1 really isn't bad, so I proceeded to knock back as much cheap beer as I could stand. Consequently, this led to me being very sauced, and by the end of the night, very stupid.

A side note: We were on our way there with a group of people when the German guy from down the hall decided that he knew a shortcut there that didn't involve taking the tube. ( I should mention that I saw this guy looking at some pictures of Hitler online in the computer lab yesterday). This would, apparently, save us about a dollar sixty four and, by my calculation, 38 seconds of travel time. Little did I know that the German actually had no clear idea of where we were headed, and the bus was actually taking us somewhere not quite to the bar, while the tube would have. Also, the German said that once we get to where we are going, it was up to me to navigate over to the bar. Well, seeing as how I had never been to this part of town before, I failed to see how that would be my responsibility. In the midst of this confusion, I had to start asking around the bus exactly where it was headed. (Thanks again, elderly gentlemen, for letting me know where we were headed.) Despite all this, we did make it to the bar eventually...

The moral of this digression is to never let Germans fool you into letting them plan a trip. Also, don't let them have internet access, because they'll just look up pictures of Hitler instead of watching internet porn like normal people.

Anyway, the reason why I saw I'm rubbish is because I was getting tired and decided to leave early and walk back home. En route some guy tried to stop me on the street to ask directions or something, and he said "Sir? Excuse me, sir...sir?" Well, it had been a long night, and not particularly fun, so I was in a bit of a foul mood, so with all the annoyance and derision I could muster up, I replied "Piss off!" And just for good measure, I even threw in a dismissive hand gesture to make sure he got the point the point that I really, really was hoping he would, in fact, piss off.

I have to say, that was far from my finest hour, and it is sort of embarassing to think about. Hopefully karma doesn't put the sham-whammy on me when I am in need...cause I really don't have any desire to "piss off".