Friday Night Fights

Last Friday Paul and I ventured forth for the second time in weeks to a party, an actual party, with alcohol and drunk people and singing and jumping.
And also, fighting.
Not with us, you see, but rather with our nice, peace-loving friend Matthew. It should be duly noted at this stage that there may have been some aggression at this party; a party filled with people we don't normally associate with, for these exact reasons. A party filled with people chanting (chanting!), as well as jumping around drunkenly and falling all over each other. To be fair, the party was pretty fun, if only for the car-crash like quality of most of the guests. Black tights and slouchy shirts abounded, as did an abnormal amount of singing the wrong lyrics, loudly, to old classics such as Deceptacon. A typical Joburg do, then. Filled with clueless trendoids who only wished that they could appear in SL magazine. HAHAHAHAHAH!
But I digress.
Because Paul and Ben were dj'ing, Matt and I were left to shuffle tipsily in front of the dj table, avoiding the overzealous shudders of a crowd that had been drinking since noon the previous day. This is when two things happened:

Firstly, while I was innocently standing next to the bar, rolling my eyes with the bar staff (oh, how they liked me), the host of the party (who shall remain anonymous) got down on all fours next to me and began smacking me repeatedly on the bum. While whinnying and neighing like some oversexed foal. It took me a few seconds to register all this, and I guess it may have had something to do with all the cider I had drunk, but my reaction was swift nonetheless. Near as I could tell he wanted me to hop on and ride off into the sunrise. Instead I smacked him as hard as is humanly possible, in the ear. He immediately sprang up, red-faced, and walked quickly away, leaving me and his friend to stare at each other and wonder what the fuck had just transpired. I didn't see him again.

The second thing that happened that night had something to do with a very drunk, very obnoxious young man who got unplugged, mid-speech, by Paul, and who 'we' may or may not have taunted with the words 'speech-smeech'. When I say we, I mean Matthew, for it was he who truly incurred the wrath of this curly-haired wreck of a human being. As Matt was walking out of the building he ran full-tilt and knocked Matt down, where he crouched, mouth-frothingly menacingly over him shouting and threatening to do bodily harm. If it weren't for the kindness of a fellow party-goer, Matthew would not have been able to share his weed with us at the end of the night.

Thanks party-goer! And also, thanks Matt, the weed was awesome.
..............................................

In other news, today Possum vomited her own body weight in something that looks and smells suspiciously like the cat food I have been begging Paul to stop feeding them.