Deathkill4000.

Doesn't sound like a funk/dance night, does it? I didn't think so either.

It wasn't a funk/dance night. The Barfly curse continues.

I drove through to Glasgow on Saturday evening to go out with Doug and Neil; Doug just recently bought a new flat in a converted warehouse (v. trendy) and I met up with the two of them there. We wandered into town to meet up with some of their mates and had a few drinks at the Arches Café Bar (vv. trendy), before heading to Barfly for what Doug characterised as "this cool funk thing they have on Saturdays". It took us about fifteen minutes of "A bit of hair metal, a twist of breakcore and some banging techno served with lashings of electropunk and a side of Scandinavian rock'n'roll" to realise that perhaps this wasn't the club we were looking for.

"Er. Maybe it's on downstairs?" said Doug. It wasn't, but hey; we stayed anyway.

Sunday was a pleasantly unchallenging day of sloth. After a bit of semi-serious career analysis/house buying chat with Doug I headed back to Edinburgh. The weather recently has been a bit frustrating; in any other country, cold weather + rain = snow; in Scotland, cold weather + rain = cold rain. The sheer amount of wind and rain on the motorway made for a rather slithery drive, along with some unintentional (but entertaining) sideways action when I came off the exit roundabout at Edinburgh. When I got back, the gloriously time-wasting Rebel Strike went on the GameCube, followed by some much-needed bass playing (and mourning of the cancellation of this) in preparation for Tiny Monkey's next practise session.

P.S.: Oh, I almost forgot:

• I got a God-awful haircut on Saturday. It's sort of a Marine-style mini-mullet. Absolutely ghastly, but it looks marginally better after a shower, thank fuck.
  
• And the weather just got even worse; hailstones practically the size of a baby's head. Lovely.