And in other news....

Went to The Octopus on a Sunday Kroak Night for the first time, after hearing many nice things about it in the not-so-distant-past. Have to say, amidst heart-rending sobs and other whatnots, my insides did a double flip before finally taking the deep plunge into uber-cess.
The joint was flooded with Spinn-offs, bimbettes in contempt-inducing wardrobe and expressions, undergrown boy items with spwarks in their hair-ishtyles, flaky bits of coversation [vaaaandi!] and all-in-all, many many things that I utterly think ruin many a good evening. And have the potential to for many more.
Notwithstanding that my fruit punch costs thrice as much as a chilled-beeru, which I can understand if I'm given the right ambience and good music, the place was packed with humanities and most of its dregs. Plus, the music was, erm.... yes.

Give me lovely talentful nights of Boomsas, Ostriches, Shankies, Sherils, and yet others any old day. Mins like, so long as what I remembered of the nice old place can live peacefully in my head at least.

Ye gods, I cannot begin to tell you the horrors. And what's more, NO SHEESHAH. Waste, I say.