Misha was being hounded by her friends to come to the Shelbourne for her friend Renee's farewell party. It was only 11.30pm, so I thought I'd come around for a few more drinks. Adrian dropped us off at the 3WM free of charge (what a sweetheart, thank you!), and we headed inside for one more drink. Her friend with the crabs, Pat, gave her grief via SMS for being a soft-cock, so we hailed another cab to the Shelbourne, aka the worst fucking nightfuckingclub in the entire fuck world.

Let me just say here that even if it wasn't the Shelbourne, I hate nightclubs more than anything. I would much rather have a good night out at a pub where I could chat with mates and hear myself think than spend a night swallowing my own vomit watching guys peaking off their fucking tits and women so beautiful they make me analyse and loathe every inch of my post-baby body. Usually in these sorts of situations, I become aggressive and defensive. More aggressive.

BUT.

To my surprise, I had a great time. The highlight of this chapter of the evening was definitely meeting Benny and Patty.

Benny started out as this sweaty, blurry twister in the middle of the dancefloor. Shimmying and shaking to the music, he was in a world of his own, and I was immediately mesmerised. The music at this shithole was on par with a playlist you'd expect at a blue-light disco (which I kinda liked but the place was really shithouse), but I had to commend this guy for tearing it up on the dancefloor the way he did. His gumption and internal rhythm was something so foreign to anything I've ever seen in Sydney, and it was refreshing to see someone have so much fun. He was really great conversation when he wasn't dancing, which was a bonus.

Then there was Pat, the guy with the crabs - for those of you playing at home. Now this guy is seriously fucking awesomeness. I hadn't met him before that evening, but he was such a riot and he had a killer laugh, it was easy to see why he was good mates with Mish. He's in a ska band, and I was impressed by a couple things:

1) He gave me a kick-ass shoulder massage at the bar, I nearly fell asleep. Don't worry all you maternal/paternal readers, it wasn't seedy and he didn't stray towards any of my bathingsuit areas.

2) His Steven Segal-type 'Oriental' jacket. I don't know who else can wear that and get away with it.

3) He saved Misha and I from getting thrown into a massive Lebo/Maori brawl. Misha didn't know the fight had started, since her back was to the fight, and I thought Patty was just up for a really urgent group-hug. I took great pleasure in dancing on broken glass after the kerfuffle. As you do.

I always get nervous when I meet new friends of friends. There's an unexpected pressure to prove that you rock enough to be let into your friend's other social group, though I didn't feel any of that with these people. There was not an ego in sight, and it really blew me away at how down to earth Misha's uni friends were. I met her good friend, Kate, who floored me with how nice she was -- call it a previous allergic reaction to blondes my age, but she was totally cool. Renee, the lass leaving for greener pastures in London, was really nice, too. I watched Misha blush and get excited to see two of her other friends pash on, whose names escape me right now, but it made me laugh. There was some point where Misha said she was horrible at gossip, then physically pointed out the couple pashing just as they turned to look at her. Misha tuned in to her McGyver-type skills and hid behind ME of all people. Nice one, bruvva.

At about 2am, after a night full of booze and FINALLY a bottle of water, we decided to hit home. Walking to the bus stop, Misha was yelling because she had gone deaf, I had gone quiet because I was starting to sound like a ladyboy who'd gone off hormone therapy, Pat was making fun of my non-existent testicles, and some other guy friend (I'm sorry, we didn't get a formal introduction so I don't remember his name!) finally arrived after what seemed like a two-minute trudge up a hill. Waiting with me for my bus, Benny joined us shortly afterwards, though not before Pat yelled at the Canadian with the iPod on the bench next to us.

This poor (sober) guy cracked me up - a total stranger, he was minding his own business, then he was being screamed at by rowdy drunk folk, and his reaction was to play along and have a laugh. Not to mention his hair that defied all the laws of gravity, he seriously kicked. I found myself taking a picture of the two of them doing the 'ROCK!' sign, then had to do it again at Pat's disgruntled request, when he noticed that the Canuck was slow on the uptake and didn't do it right the first time around. He still got it wrong, but I don't think Pat noticed. What a champ.

We took a couple more photos where Misha and I looked very very drunk, when Americaboy HJ (that's his name, as far as I could remember) ran up, yelling abuse at the buses that weren't there, laughing and freaking out that he didn't know where he lived. After a few attempts to get his attention down at ground zero, I found that he lived not too far from me at all, at luvverly Club Mac, the student housing for Macquarie University. Ten minutes had elapsed and our bus still hadn't arrived, so HJ and I walked everyone over to their bus stop and we decided to split a cab. Pat assured me I wasn't going to die, and Misha started making concerned faces, worried about my welfare (bless!). We all walked back up towards the 3WM for their bus home, where we said our goodbyes. Misha assured me she'd kill Pat if I died at the hands of HJ, and HJ was given a quick death threat from Pat if I died.

Content that everyone had organised a domino-effect massacre in the offchance I was teamed up with a psycho, HJ and I hailed a cab together and knocked a $50 cab ride in half. HJ was an absolute gentleman when he wasn't being rowdy, telling me about his old home and old life back in Colorado after an extensive character analysis of the show, South Park, which was based on certain characters from his old school and old town. He had broken it off with his missus before he came to study here four months ago and wasn't sure what he was going home to this Wednesday. A politics student, I was thankful that politics never came up, LOL. It was a sombre but enjoyable ride home, and I gave him my blog address for when he got back to the US. Lovely lad who I'll never ever meet again, I wish him the very best of luck if he's reading this. Even if he's not, he was a great cab-buddy.

So that was my Saturday night out, to the best of my recollection. I want to thank Misha for being a terrible, terrible influence on me -- for being the best company to drink and rock out with my proverbial cock out, for ending our drinking binge somewhere between the 12-15 drink mark, and for dragging me out to meet some new superawesome people. I didn't get home until 3am and had to be up at 7am for work, and the worst I woke up with was an annoying case of BourbonFingers. I very rarely step out of my comfort zone, but she eased me into it in the most awesome way. I never felt my safety or personal space compromised, and all of her friends were top notch. Thanks, Misha. Easily one of my best friends down here in Sydneytown, I owe you massively.

If I don't speak with someone for a while on a one-on-one basis and I don't repeat their name back to them in conversation, you can pretty much bet I won't remember their name at all. I kinda really suck like that. I feel terrible, and if you're one of those people mentioned in today's post, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me.