Awkward. Fucking awkward. I’ve been through my fair share of awkward moments; hell, everyone has! But up until this weekend I did not truly know what awkward meant. I think I did, but I didn’t. I so didn’t. It’s like when you’re young and you steal your mom’s car
and you’re like “Of course I can drive! A trained monkey could, why couldn’t I?” and after you crash the thing into a tree it hits you: You don’t really know how to drive.
But I digress. The story is as follows: There’s this friend of mine who I consider to be one of the closest persons to me. He has done a shitload of stuff for me so it is only logical that I can’t refuse when he asks for a favor. So last Saturday we were chillin’ at some friend’s house and he said that he had to leave early cause he was supposed to accompany his girlfriend to a party from a friend of hers (her best male friend, mind you… though I’m quite positive this friend of hers is either gay or bi-curious).
The thing was, he barely knew anyone at the party. It was going to be an excruciating evening for him. So he asked me to go along and I accepted. I mean… what could go wrong?
Yeah. Let me tell you what could go wrong. We arrived at about half past eleven so the party was already going on. We went in and greeted the birthday boy and then my friend’s girlfriend left us alone to greet her other friends. So both of us were talking to each other since we didn’t know anybody else there; and then it hit me: WE DIDN’T KNOW ANYBODY ELSE THERE. It was a birthday party, and I hadn’t been invited! I crashed the guy’s birthday party! With a poker face!
Oh but it gets better. I realized lots of people were looking at us (mostly staring at me) and talking about us. The house was pretty small, like REALLY fucking small. Lady Gaga’s sex-
appeal? Yeah, smaller than that. (I’m not being douchy, I want to make a point: There was nowhere we could “hide”). So I took my friend near an open door that led to a garden and told him that this was way too fucking awkward, that the party was terrible (it was) and the house was smaller than Tottenham’s trophy gallery. (It’s small, for you non-footies, a.k.a. ballet dancers). So everywhere we stood we would be blocking someone’s way.
So I proceeded to try and escape through the open door I was talking next to, only to realize the birthday boy’s mother, father, grandparents, little sister, priest, homoerotic partner and puppy were standing there, listening to every word I said and looking at me in the most judgmental way possible.
At that point I was like fuck it, time to bust. But no, destiny still hadn’t had the last laugh. At that exact second someone (curse the motherfucker) yelled – “IT’S TWELVE O’CLOCK!” – and everyone ran towards the birthday boy who happened to be a meter away from me. Did I mention the house was small? I was in the middle between the devil and the deep blue sea. I couldn’t take anymore nor could my friend. We both gave the most awkward birthday greeting to the guy and ran like fuck. Fucking Usain Bolt ain’t got nothing on us. We got to his car and busted out. I guess his girl will understand.
Now, the only thing that can take my mind away from that is some good old Black Metal, the church burning kind. I’ll leave you with a song from Mr. Church Burner himself: Varg Vikerness, also known as Burzum (Or Vargy I hear his mother calls him). This is my favorite song from his latest album and if you don’t like it keep it to your fucking self. Do you really want to piss off a guy who burns churches and stabs people as a hobby? Yeah, I thought so.