Hello peeps. Well I've had an exciting week.... Not.
- It was my father's birthday in August. Our 'family' went out for dinner. Mum - TOTAL BOTCH, dad -SIR CUNT A LOT, m we, toNice But Dim (Bros piece of pussy) and of course, the favourite member of the family, Fat.Cun. The son they wanted had. Got disappeared when I popped out.
LlGreat. Before NBD and FC arrived TB sat in tender hooks, her head turning as soon as she saw any movement in her perhifial vision... the glass window. The three of us sat in silence, a stark contrast to the lively, talkative, surrounding tables. TB religiously checking her phone and asking my SCAL whether she should call NBD or not
Suddenly a smile errupted on her face, 'They're outside!', she beamed. Soon they joined us at the table and a four-way conversation began to flow with ease from them (not me, number 5). FC asked the enivateble question to my father 'So, DAD what did you get for your birthday?'
'Oh, just vouchers' SCAL causally replied.
I felt my blood begin to boil. Yes, 90% of the time he got vouchers and alcohol.
Over TB's last forced buying I paid for a game she wanted. A microphone and a singing game for the Wii, so I got Hermthe mic. and we're going to get a game next weekend.
They only had the left over Xmas crap when I went. Not only that, but a couple of weeks ago, when he returned from a shopping trip with my he told me 'They've got really nice Ralph Lauren belts in the Debenams sale, they were reduced from £75 to £30, but
your TC said that's too expensive for a belt!'
'Oh, really, what were they like SCAL?'
'Just black with a sliver Ralph Lauren buckle. They had a few, but they had this really nice one with a square clip buckle. It was the most expensive though at £40'
'You should've just got it anyway SCAL. You earn the money'
Remebering the conversation I went and purchased the £40 belt. I remembered, it was a heart felt gesture. I wanted to actually try this year. Not just surcum to the predictable convenience of voucher. However to his immediate reaction it was forgotton. Of course, he corrected himself once I had shot him a dirty look before excusing myself for a cigarette.
My AN couldn't resist snapping at me when I dared to utter 'I'm full up', but when NBD said the same, 3 minutes later, my mother pretended not to hear. Mum was pissed at our small appeptites. It was a £20 all you can eat Indian buffet and I can never eat one big meal. Debbie stared longly at the left over food and it was clear she wanted some more, but life was a competition for Debbie and I knew she wouldn't eat unless I did. I didn't and neither did she.
Anyhow, lets fastforward to April 2001. It was an unusually balmy April evening and both me and Flic where excited about our meeting. We hadn't seen each other for a good four months, with Christmas Eve clubbing being our last von-day-vous. Babysitters don't come easily when you're 20, funnily enough and even having three sisters aged 24, 22 and 18 was no benefit. They had their lives. They hadn't chosen to have a kid at 17 so why should they suffer? By the grace of God Flic's younger sister had been out for a birthday the night before and knew her crippling hangover would prevent her partying the following day. Not working and being skint the lure of £10 was too much easy money to resist. Finally, at 2pm, Saturday afternoon we managed to confirm our night out.
We had agreed to meet in Kingston in a little pub down by the river at 7pm. We planned to have a few cheap drinks and then head down to Volts, one of the local nightclubs. I was on my second bus ride of the journey and sitting on the top deck with the sun shinning though the glass warming my face. The cool breeze from the open windows provided a welcoming relief from the warm April day.
By 2001 I was looking damn good. I had shrunk from a size 16 to a 10 at the age of 18, and in the last year finally my face had thinned out. Instead of owning a round, chipmunk face I had upgraded to a slim, oval face. My cheek bones where sharp and excentuated when I smiled. I always thought I had small eyes, but now I realised that wasn't true. My eyes weren't large, but they certainlly wern't small. My chubby cheek bones had swamped them previously, engluffing them like two pennies on a freshly plumped pillow.
I had spent a good three hours getting read for tonight. I knew Flic would be looking banging, so I had to make the effort. Since I lost the weight at 18, I was no longer the second best. I was no longer the girl who was too ulgy to kiss the boys. I was first choice; and what I wasn't interested in, was the pickings for my mates. Yes, I had a big head, but after years of being told I was ugly and boys picking my friends over me had left a lasting effect. When it came to looks I was big headed. It was nice to have men falling at my feet and deep inside I feared it may not last forever.
On top of my sunbed tan I had also given myself a good coat of San Tropez after my bath. It had colour in it and you looked a dark, an almost greeny brown (don't ask, it doesn't stay like that) whilst taking around 8 hours to develop properly. I was wearing my gel bra, which is a bra with rather large gel padding in the cup. It feels like a real boob and expanded my already generous double DD's to double EE's. I wore a lycra black top with an asemetric shoulder. One side had a large floaty sleave in a sheer material flaring out wide at the bottom. I felt like a butterfly wearing it, swishing and swooshing the long sleeve in the wind. The other side had a simple black strap.
With the back top I also wore a black skirt, again tight lycra, flarring out below my hips and finishing midway between my knee and bum. I wore a large diamonte and white belt, large diamonte necklace, bracelette, earrings and ring.
My strappy high heals were stilletto healed with thin straps over the toes and around the ankle. Between the straps were large linked chains going all around the shoe. They were to die for, and similar to a pair Posh Spice wore from Jean Paul Gautiere or Vivian Westwood... I can't remember... I'm not good with fashion like that... The shoes were painfull, but combined with my cropped black, leather type biker jacket I looked da bomb baby!
I got the bus to Kingston and tottered down the high street to the pub by the river. Kingston was still heaving with a mixture of people. Shoppers, who were eager to finish their day heaving numerous shopping bags and children in the direction of the car parks and the night owls who stood out among the shoppers in their tiny skirts and ironed shirts! Overweight mothers would glance at me with envy whilst screaming expletives at their feral off-spring This was not a look I was familiar with. It would go like this...
1) I would catch their eye they would look back at me
2) They briefly look away; then they look me up and down
3) Finally their gaze meets mine with a disproving look before turning to their partners
4) They get even more pissed off when they realise their parnter's looking at me
5) They pull their partners along, checking their reflection in the nearest window, smoothing down their frizzy hair and yanking up their baggy tracksuit bottoms.
Whilst externally retaining my cool, internally I would grow with pride. These women want to be me and their men want to be with me! I held my head high, regularly checking my sleek relection in the glass shop windows. It had been only three years ago in Kingston at the same club, when a drunk bloke had shouted insults at my friend. Being the loud mouthy bitch I am, I immediately stuck up for her only for him to turn his attention to me, shouting at the top of his voice 'SHUT UP, YOU FAT BITCH!'.... If only he could see me now.
I reached the pub and Chloe was sitting outside with with her next door neighbours, brother and sister Torri and Graeme. Graeme was just 19 and would be joining us clubbing but Torri was just 17, so would be remaining in the pub where she wouldn't get asked for ID. Clubs had got a little stricter with ID since around 1999, bizzare, as when I was 17 and under, I never got asked!
Flic and Torri had already purhcased a bottle of white wine and an empty wine glass was waiting for me. I walked over to Flic with the obligatory hug and kiss and then repeated for the same for Torri and Gray. Before I sat down, I grabbed a handfull of ice from the ice bucket and filled my wine glass to the brim then adding the wine. I began to sit down and my bum had only just brushed the seat when Flic hollared,
'SHOW ME, SHOW ME, SHOW ME! What you wearing girl?'
I had already begun to unzip my tight jacket, so I slipped it off standing up at the same time. I dropped the jacket to the bench and did a twirl ensuring the sleeve flared as much as it could, giving the full floaty effect. My skirt flarred out slighty too for a joint double super effect.
'Ta-Da! What do you think Flic? This top was new from As Seen On Screen (it didn't become ASOS until much later). It was in the sale, £10.00 reduced from £30.00. Oh, and new shoes' I added, lifting one tanned leg and placing my foot on the wooden bench.
'Ohhhhh, I like. Me likey very much. How much where they?' Flic said whilst glancing wide eyed at my Posh Spice replica shoes.
'Only £25.00 from Faith. I got some similar white ones, without the chains and with silver studs on the straps for £15.00'
'Mmmmmm, I think I might be having a little shopping trip soon! So how are you darling?'
'Good' I replied, and then lowering my voice to almost a wisper, 'Oh, I managed to get that LSD.... Don't have a clue what it's like but my friend recons it's weakish, so we shouldn't get fucked. Have you got the change?'
'Yeah sure babes'
'Oh' I continued in my hushed tones 'I've got a couple of pills on me too, two different types. Purple Spotted Mercedes which are quite mellow and chilled... Little bit trippy and certainly not speedy.... You can actually sleep on them. Anyway, I've got one of them and one of a new batch I bought earlier'
Flic's eyes lit up. She too was partial to a couple of pills or two. Especially now, since having the baby. She didn't get to venture out often, so when she did, she did it proper.
'They sound nice, what are the new ones like?' Flic added rather hurrdily. Flic had already tried mellow trippy pills and when you're a sleep deprived mum you don't really want mellow!
'I don't know, I haven't tried them but Kelly says they're really good. They're called Turbo Mitsbishi and they're a pale green! Kel says they really hype you up and she was proper off her head, they're proper rushy, but not speedy. We'll have half and half yeah?'
Flic nodded eagerly in agreement and the drinking commenced. We finished the bottle of wine and the next was soon purchased. Feeling moderately tipsy I removed the small green pill from a plastic baggy in my wallet. Pushing my thumb nails into the centre I split it in half keeping the slightly larger half for myself. Flic already had her hand placed under the table, and I placed her half in the palm of her hand. We both then took our halves and swallowed them quickly, washing them down quickly with a glug of Pinot. The bitter taste had coated my throat and a second glug was soon on the cards. Flic soon followed suit and I smiled at her contently, knowing clearly this one was going to disolve quickly. It was around 7.30pm when we swallowed the pill. We anticipated arriving at the club early, before 9.30pm so we could get in at a discounted price. Hopefully, if we were going to be fucked, it would kick off once we were inside the club. I was familar with bouncers spotting a pill head a mile off and refusing them entry.
The conversation flowed like the Nile, only pausing when necessary, rushing with addictive laughter, the pill beginning to kick in simultaniously with the alcohol, which was disappearing quickly. We decided to leave around 9.15pm, giving us 15 minutes to walk to the club and stop at the shop to re-stock on cigarettes. As the pill buzz hadn't yet kicked in (although it was imminenant) I commanded a rather tipsy, but hyper Flic accompany me to the toilets.
Upon arrivial I checked we were alone before turning to Flic.
'Flic, lets do these LSD now.. I don't wanna be carrying them into the club'
'Ok' Flic replied shrugging her shoulders.
With shaky hands I removed my wallet from my bag and again reached for the plastic baggie. I removed the two small squares of paper. Blank on one side and the other, adorned with a small cartoon, coloured in acid bright colours. We took one each and placed the coloured side on our tongues.
'Em, unner shoe ine'
'Errr?' Flic mimed a 'what' sign.
Chewing the small piece of paper, I repeated with clarity 'I'm gonna chew mine, just did, you know, get the most out of it'
Flic immediately copied and we both swallowed the remains.
'Right, fingers crossed we don't get too fucked!' I said with around 85% of me excited, anticipating the best and a small 15% worried about the worse. No matter how much of a hardened drug user I had become whenever I tried a new drug, or even a new type of pill, a small ball of worrying anticipation would lie in the pit of my stomach. Fear never prevented me from taking drugs though.... Probably why I was stupid enough to try smack! The fear was always englufed by the need/want to get high, and of course the actual high when it finally hit me.
We used the bathroom and topped up our make-up. Concentrating on my eyes it was clear I hadn't experienced my high yet. My pupils hadn't tranformed in to deep black circles. Although I was feeling it, the not wanting to smoke a cigarette, the draining my drink as coming up sober was no longer a plesant experience, I wasn't there yet. I had become aclimatised to ecstasy I no longer gained the high I first expeirenced. At first, the concept of drinking whilst pilling was totally alien. I would be too sick and alcohol didn't even smell appealing. Now, without alcohol, ecstasy was nothing but a menopausal hot flush. Ok, that's not true. But these days, instead of the head spinning, growing rush of love, starting as a ball in you stomach, spreading upwards, flushing your cheeks, making you sweat, making your vision vibrate and fuzzy, sending you in love; I would experience.. It was like.. Hmmm... It was kinda the same, but not to the extremes I enjoyed. Kinda mild.
Alcohol increased that. The ball of love, the rush, the blurred vision, the loved up talk, the being nice... But it also decreased the staying up, grinding your teeth all night. Infact, alcohol now enhanced ecstasy.
We left the bathroom and returned to our seats to drain the last of the wine. Within 20 minutes a soothing, mellow feeling began to hit me. It took the edge off the pill, reducing my constant fidgetting. The LSD had begun to take effect. Flic's hyper tyrade of conversation had begun to mellow, slowing down and enabling you to detect the slight slurring of words. Before I even realised it, another bottle of wine had come and gone. Torri had left and both myself and Flic were beginning to feel the effects of the Turbo Mitsbishi! The chain smoking commenced, so some reason cigarettes tasted soooo good once you had come up. You couldn't touch one without puking before you came up, but after.... They were heaven! Flic checked the time on her phone. 9.05pm the glowing blue LED flashed. Flic turned to me placing her arms around me and slurred; 'Babes, we may as well leave soon init. No point getting another bottle' before turning to Graeme and shouting 'GRAEME, WE'RE GONNA LEAVE IN A MINUTE'
'I'm just going to pee' I informed both of them.
I floated to the toilet as if I was able to glide through the throbbing crowd. The air was hot and when combined with the sense of urgency coming up can give you, a mild panic spread through out my veins. I felt like Alice in Wonderland... The more I rushed to the door the further away I appeared. My temples throbbed red hot and I knew my face was a hot pink colour. Finally I reached my goal, the cool air hitting me immediately upon opening the toilet door.
My face, a combination of sun kissed and blushing red, had beads of sweat forming along the hair line. Upon reaching the toilet my heart began to slow, my mission was completed. I staggered into the cubical; I was going to come up soon, very fucking soon. Sitting on my thrown, my stream of pee was steaming. I gazed at the door letting my eyes un-focus as I relaxed. My sight blurring... Then... In the corner of my right eye, a dark shadow loomed. As if someone was looking over the toilet cublical... inspecting my intoxicated manner... Do I look too fucked?... Maybe checking to see if I was doing drugs.... I did look high.... The one nervous thought flooded my body with anxiety, causing my heart beat to pound rapidly. Quickly, in an urgent manor, I turned my head... only to be greated with nothing. I must be buzzing.. Haha... Or hallucinating? Hmmmmmmm... The drum beat thudding from my chest slowed immediately but each beat still thumped in my chest.
As I stood up it was clear my high was unsually different from my normal ecstacy high. The music sounded better, the colours looked brighter, noises where more startling and my skin was even more sensitive to touch. Everything more noticable, louder, splashed with neon hues. I rejoined Flic and Gray and we left for the shops. We were eager the gain the discounted price they charged from 9pm - 9.30pm. We stopped at the newsagent next door to Volts. My old college was just down the road from the nightclub and I used to visit the shop often. Tonight however,the rows of sweeties and chocolate bars appearred to be of infiniate length. Every colour of the rainbow, in fact every colour you could imagaine twinkled under the bright shop lights.
An excitement filled my chest and soon laughter errupted. Flic looked at me with confused eyebrows and stoned looking eyes. 'Hur?'
'The sweets, look at the colours, that's pretty Flic the lick'
'Jen, you're mashed. You look stoned'
'Welcome to the club. You too Flic'
'What?!'
'Yup. I feel like I'm pilling, but also stoned. Normally, when you smoke weed when you're pilling you don't feel the weed. But, it's like you can tonight'
Flic stopped to think for a second. She too was buzzing from the pill. She too had that rush of love. And, she too had red rimmed eyes and a more chilled mannor. It hit her, we looked fucked. We agreed to wear sunglasses to enter the club. We'd look like dicks, but we'd get in. Our eyes rimmed red, pupils enlarged, was a sure sign of drugs.
With the combination of a little flirting and the absence of female bouncers, we breezed in. We ordered more drinks and decided to sit upstairs, at one of the tables surrounding the glass blaconey that looked down on the dance floor. We gazed at the dance floor in a trance as the Garage tunes blasted out of the speakers and the DJ skillfully mixed Mystique's Garage version of 'All I Want'. When the tune became recognisable Flic whipped of her jacket whilst standing up, excatly the same time as I did.
We began winding and grinding, whilst singing very loudly to one of our favourite tunes. I had a few friends who danced in nightclubs and as a result I always knew the latest dance moves. Garage was my love and even to today there's not very many other genres of music that gives me goose bumps like hearing an Old Skool Garage tune. Often people would ask if I was a professional dancer. Upon saying 'No', they would argue that I was lying. Their alcohol affected vision ehancing my preformance to professional status. I enjoyed the attention and easily learned new complex moves. With one hand placed to steady myself I could raise my leg straight in the area, held with my free hand. I would often jump into the splits, before pulling my legs together in a crouched position, then standing up whilst twirling. It drove the men wild with passion and their girlfriends wild with jealously.
Flic, was more RnB influenced and would wind her hips, bending her knees until they were fully bent, before shooting upright. She would hypnotically sway her curvasious hips and bum luring unexpecting men into her trap. But, Flic's moves were easy to master into my routine and I certainly enjoyed the additional attention this brought. We had been dancing behind our tucked in chairs as we watched the half filled dance floor below. I had seen a rather cute looking mixed race guy. He was with, from what I could tell, three darker guys and an Asian guy... Probably one of those Ali G types who thinks he's black.*
*In 2011 it's apparent being black is seriously cool. Now, all kids speak with pigeon English slang. It's mainly inherited from the black Carribean's who have immigrated to the UK. It started with black kids who were English and born here, picking it up from their older relatives. Then the Asian kids, joined the club in the late 90's early 2000's... Hense the Ali G piss take. I've heard sooooooo many Asian kids tell me they're black. Finally any kids with any type of colour to their skins began to think they could call themselves black. The only race I haven't really encountered doing this in large numbers is the Chinese. But, I've still seen a few in their baggy trousers, baseball hats and hoodies. Now, the majority of young people I come into contact with speak with pigeon English, or Patwa (correct spelling?) slang. Generally it's more common in the poorer areas. I think it's quite funny to be honest. I stared using pigeon slang 14 years ago when I started to have a lot of black friends at work. Unlike the young people of today when I was talking to people who wouldn't understand the slang terms, I would speak normally. Posh and polite at work. Chatty and cockney to my other friends. I still do today. It's funny when I've had my white friends with me and I've ordered a bag of weed.... 'Yea, wassup B, you live?... Safe, what ends you in?... Henry and benz init... Safe B'... My friends just stare and ask me to repeat myself in English. Anyway....
He had been chilling in one of the corners and they all danced a little. He looked around 5'10-5'12 and all of his friends towered over him. He had a white t-shirt and kinda tight around his arse, but baggy in his legs, navy jeans. He had a white cap which had been removed from his head and attached to the belt loops in his jeans. He was stocky, but not fat. Very well built with nice muscles. He had his hair in a mini hi-top, a slight afro on the top that was faded into a close shave on his sides and back.
Flic would have been stupid not to notice my eyes had been fixed on him the whole time he was on the dance floor. She was only graced with my attention once he had left the dance floor. 'YOU LIKE ONE OF THEM JEN?' She hollared over the booming base line thumping.
'YEAH, THE LITTLE MIXED RACE ONE'
'I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE THE HALF CASTE ONE' (Flic didn't have too many black friends and back then people were only just starting to object with the term half caste, so she wasn't being rude, just ignorant of the change to mixed race)
'WHAT ABOUT YOU?'
'YEAH, LOOK AT HIM OVER THERE'
Flic pointed to a Greek or Italian looking guy. He had straight black hair in curtains and was showing a lot of body in a tight tank top. His jeans fitted a little too well, excentuating his large round peachy bum.
We both collasped into our chairs tired from our burst of dance. Mystique had finished a while ago and we had continued bopping away to tunes from DJ Luck and Mc Neat, Craig David, Artful Dodger and Piped Pipped and the MC's. Finally a unknown, more hardcore tune was mixed in. Along with us sitting down the dance floor became rather empty. Soon the only people dancing were a few, hardcore garage fans who were heavily intoxicated, Greasy Garry's.*
* Greasy Garry's is my term to describe a typical, rude, white guy. Unlike the description above, these guys are cockney to the core. Probably racist..... Ahmmmm... Gelled short hair, Ben Sherman Shirts, designer jeans and Reebok Classics. Type of guys who could get violent if they found out I only dated black guys... 'What, you brain damaged... Why do you only do the dirty n*ggers?... You need some white cock!... Seriously what's wrong with you?... You're a fucking BITCH, fucking slag...' My explaination of.. 'I just only find black guys attractive. Some guys like blonds, some brunettes, some boobs, some legs,... I just like black.... A white guy has a white body, brown freckles, brown pubes, dusty brown balls, white cock, blue veins, pink head.... A black guy is just black. Ok, various shades... But just black. Their skin fits them better, smooth and inticing.
Glugging one of my three bottles of WKD (promotion), I sat back in the chair and relaxed. It was around 10.30pm now. Daz had told me it would take a whole 1-2 hours to hit me properly. I began to feel more relaxed but I was still mesmorised by the music. The club had a fantastic light display and lazers danced from above and below me in a complex pattern. The green was so vibrant it reminded me of Star War's type light sabers. The warped mish-mash red grid became a spider's web. The flash light made my slow motion movement even more cartoon like as I battelled with reality.
We had both been ignoring Graeme for some time now due to our dancing previously and our current statue-esq poses... Moving only to slip more alcohol and smoke cigarettes.
'FLIC....? YOU OK?' Graeme yelled.
Flic bolted as if she had been sleeping with her eyes opened and turned her head.
'YES-YES-YES' She leant over and wrapped her arms around him, completing the affection with a kiss on the cheek. 'JUST A BIT... FUUCCCKKKKEEEED! HAHA! JEN, TOILET! NOW!'
I responded with a small jump upon hearing my name and we both swayed to the toilets, arm in arm.
To be continued... Spelling hasn't been checked.
