Mitglied - Member

This entry had better be good. The first of a brand-spanking-new year, it ought to be one to re-member. And one with a slightly less tenuous link to my German word. Like new year celebrations, it’ll likely be a dismal disappointment to both me and whoever is ill-fated enough to read it. Probably instantly forgettable too, much like a big chunk of last night’s troublesome proceedings. After a bad experience with a bottle of red wine a mere four or five days previous, I thought it’d be a good idea to repeat the venture at my friend’s house party and make the whole experience approximately four or five times more disorderly. On both occasions, after drinking the whole bottle I seemed moderately drunk and lucid for a good half hour. After that it just all went to hell, my memory effectively wiped clean, and a trail of destruction and odd behaviour in my wake. A good five hours is completely lost to me, sketchy details of which trickled through to me today in a series of alarming reports from several eye-witnesses. Apparently I fell into a bathroom, hopped down the stairs - tripping and falling only at the last step, talked a ludicrous amount of shit, and most disturbing of all, practically declared I was a member of a hardcore rightwing racist group, in two unrelated outbursts. Firstly, having just seen the new Frank Miller graphic novel adaptation, The Spirit, I made the observation that Scarlett Johansson looked very sexy in a Nazi uniform - innocent enough, but my friend’s parties attract a particularly lefty-liberal crowd, so eyebrows were raised. The second, I’m amazed it happened, and possibly even more amazed I’m about to write a full confession. I’ll just blurt it out quickly, so you can take it completely out of context to get the full effect before I start attempting to dig my way out. Exclaimed at an uncomfortably high volume, “I hate [offensive term for African-Amerians beginning with the letter N]s!”. Of course I don’t - that’s just nuts. According to my friend, seconds before my deplorable verbal discharge, I leaned in to her and whispered “This is going to be really funny, I’m definitely not racist, but I’m gonna go to Harlem and wear a sign that says…” a clear reference to my impending trip to New York and the hostel I’ve booked opposite the Apollo Theater in the middle of Harlem. AND most essentialy to Die Hard With a Vengeance, featuring Bruce Willis having to do exactly that for a mental Jeremy Irons. So you have to ask yourself, were I a massive racist, would I have booked a hostel in the middle of a famously very, very black neighbourhood in New York? Truth is I love a lot of people, I hate a lot of people, but skin colour has sod all to do with it. Haircuts, on the other hand - don’t get me started. So in context it’s a little more excusable, but not by that much. But given I can’t remember any of it, I don’t have that much of a guilty conscience! All I know is that red wine is definitely off limits for 2009, lest I make any further explosively slurred remarks, racial or otherwise.