Last Night Of Hell In Syn

Seven, at seven; table 34. (If you're the superstitious sort, and/or into occult, you'll tend to notice such things.)

The main reason I'd gone is that I'm pretty sure this will be the last time I'd ever taste delicious Hell - Hell Pizza. The last time we had celebrated a birthday there was last year in May - Carrie's. That had been slightly weird because of the guys who invited themselves to the gathering. Those guys were ... something. The evening had ended with one of them dipping and twirling Carrie like the best of Bollywood (dancing) heroes.

Man oh man, I luuuurrrve that place. Where else can afford you the opportunity to text messages such as "Yo, we're doing Syn tonight.", or "Are you in Hell yet?"; or, when discussing the menu: "What do you think - Pandemonium or Purgatory?", "Okay, so it's double Gluttony, double Greed, with sides of potato wedges, chicken wedges, kumara chips, and garlic bread? You want beer?"

Hell Pizza in Syn Bar - there can't be a better place in town to spend a birthday. Tonight, the music was a mix of retro and 70's hits - which went perfectly well with diabolically good food and wickedly cold beer.

A discussion of the piss-poor beers here led to plans being made to visit the brewery - for purely educational purposes only - as someone had very primly said, "We're university students; we're here to learn, right?" I'm not a beer fan, but hey, at least there's alcohol in it.

The light buzz I'm currently enjoying from the beer is relaxing. Sure, I have an essay that's due on Monday (which I haven't started on) and a test on the same day (which I've barely started studying for), but what the hell - let's just chill for one night before burning midnight oil and the candle at both ends over the next four days.

Also, I finally found someone who actually likes my idea of a Porn 'n' Pizza Nite. The girls had always claimed they couldn't possibly stomach any food watching porn. I say, if we're only watching your run-of-the-mill porn (i.e. no BDSM, no exotic practices such as feces eating, urination and all those stuff the Japanese are so famous for, etc.), we'll need the food to keep us awake.

But Diana, she was way keen. The girls and I watched Sex and Zen last year, so I said I don't want to watch silly Category Three movies this time round; I want classics like Debbie Does Dallas, or Deep Throat, or maybe even the really kinky Japanese and Korean pornos (they seem to have a predilection for BDSM, and they are creative - if creative is indeed the adjective for them). Diana's face had lit up. Yes, yes yes! she'd enthused.

I knew there had to be a side of her I'd not known before. After all, she'd shared a room with Millie - the ex-Methodist Girl with a Gothic wardrobe, a fetish for fetish, and the dream of owning a white latex nurse's outfit - before Millie abandoned Welly for the UK. (Millie partially fulfilled her dream when she attended my hall's Fetish Party two years ago. Unfortunately she had to make to do with a regular nurse's outfit as the costume shop didn't have latex ones. Now that she's in the UK, however, I think she's prolly had her dream come true twice over, at least.)

I hope Diana enjoyed her (belated) birthday dinner tonight - I know I have.

So maybe I'm waddling around with a beer belly, and maybe I've put on a couple of kilos from stuffing my fat face; but for tonight at least, I can belch my cares away and drawl, "Soooo whaaaat?"