So..... Last night we all went to Sugar Hut. Me, Carolina, Lauren, Russ, Jord, Tony and Pants. Everyone was in a brilliant mood so we did actually manage to half-recreate our holiday (in Brentwood). Once there I met up with the best-dressed man and we had a few drinks. We were all having a very nice time when me and Lauren went off to go to the toilet.
On the way back from the toilet a rough looking giant of a bloke stops me and says "I know you probably don't want to talk about him but I used to spar with your ex Garry" (Garry is the murderer). This is the conversation that followed:
Me: "That's nice for you"
Him: "Why don't you like him? He's a nice guy really"
Me: "No he's not, he's a murderer"
Him: "Yeah but that doesn't make him a horrible person - do you know what - you're a sort! (meaning "you're fit")"
Me: "Ha ha, thank you. Really though; I would say that generally if you murder someone then you're not a very nice person"
Him: "yeah but, you know, well, he's not all bad - you really are a sort"
Me: "thank you - but, mate, he also beat me up for four years. I don't really have anything good to say about him"
Him: "oh well. Never mind. Can I ask you sumfin? Is it true that you said "everyone from Canning Town and Custom House is a scumbag?"
Me: "No, where did you get that crap from? I would never say something like that"
Him: "someone told me you said it - did you say it or not?"
Me: "No, I just told you I didn't say it. Who told you I said that?"
Him: "I see it in a newspaper. I fink you DID say it"
Me: "For the third time I DIDN'T say that. I would NEVER say that (I'm getting angry now - the bloke is really starting to piss me off), half of my best friends are from East London. I may have said Garry is a scumbag but that's because he IS a scumbag. I would never say that everyone from that area is a scumbag"
Him: "yeah but I see it in a newspaper. You f*ckin' DID say it!"
Me: "Well, if you believe everything you read in a newspaper then you're pretty dumb - why would I say that when most of my mates are from East London?!"
Him: "Why you getting arsey? No need for that!"
Me: "well, you did come up to me talking about my murdering ex-boyfriend and tried to tell me he's a nice person - now you're putting words in my mouth and saying I said something when I didn't - it's not exactly the best way to have a nice conversation with me"
Him: "I didn't come up to you!"
Me: "Whaaaaaaat?! No, I imagined it! I suppose I started hassling you did I?"
Him: "Do you know what? You're an f*ckin' hypocrite and you wanna take a long hard look in the mirror cos you ain't all that!"
Me: "Well mate you are a freak and YOU wanna take a look in the mirror, if you even own one, cos you seem to have come to a nightclub in flip-flops!" (he did actually have shorts and flip-flops on in a place where every other person is glammed up to the nines).
At that I walked away and he turned and ran, probably realising that I was going to find a doorman to throw him out. The thing that pissed me off about this man (apart from the fact that he was a total dickhead and very rude and annoying - is if all that isn't enough - is this: as he got angrier with the way the conversation was going, he pulled himself up to his full height and moved his face right into mine. He actually looked at one point as if he was going to hit me. I could see it in his eyes. I've seen enough violent men in my time and I know the signs. I can spot a man who hits women a mile off. He truly wanted to smack me in the face but probably thought better of it due to the fact that we were in a public place. It wasn't even what he was saying (even though he was chatting absolute garbage) that wound me up - it was the fact that I suddenly had the power to see him for what he truly was - a woman-beater. The anger that flashed in his eyes as he called me a hypocrite was the same anger I've seen so many times before when a bloke is losing an argument badly (cos he's too thick to come back with a decent response) and turns to violence to resolve it cos it's the only way he can "win". Jesus, I hate human beings.
So, I carry on with my night. A while later we are standing at the bar when I suddenly get a whole drink poured down my bare back. I turn around (thinking it's going to be a drunk person done it by accident) to see a girl screaming at the bloke who's done it "you F*cking idiot! Will you behave yourself!" At that, I realised he must have done it on purpose. I confronted him and calmly said "did you just pour a drink over me mate?" His girlfriend says "yes he did and he's a f*ckin twat!", she then turns to him and screams "See!!! I told you!!!" before running off and leaving him to me to deal with. I ask him again "did you just pour a drink over me?" as he still hasn't answered, to which he starts mumbling incoherently and looking around above my head (probably for a quick get-away). At that moment, the best-dressed man ever (who is also the scariest bloke in the club) grabs hold of his shoulders and says "time to go my friend" before frog-marching him downstairs and straight out of the doors of the club. Good riddance
Now, what I fail to understand is why on earth would a dick like that (or the one earlier) start on me in Sugar Hut in the first place?! My best mate owns the place!!!!! I am best mates with most of the doormen in there (including the Head doorman) and not one of them is going to stand by and see me getting grief. They will NEVER take someone else's side over mine (in fact they would throw their own mates out if they were giving me hassle). I cannot understand why people think they can come up to me and have a go when I clearly LIVE in Sugar Hut and have untold protection in there. There is always a doorman watching me when I'm in there (cos they know how many dickheads give me grief) and they are so quick to run to my side. All I have to do is click my fingers with a look of "help!" on my face and they will be there in force to sort out a problem. Most people who frequent Sugar Hut know that I am in there every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night. Even if they don't know that I am best mates with the owner then they can surely work out for themselves that I am a bit of a face and that I will always be looked after. Also, most people know that I am from Brentwood and so can assume that I know a lot of people in the area. It is ridiculous to think (even if they don't know anything about me, apart from the fact that I am famous) that, on having an argument with me, the club are going to throw me out instead of them. Come on guys, have a bit of brain - use your noddle!! Ha ha. Would the club rather have famous glamour model in skimpy outfit or would they rather have pissed random annoying her?! I got a sneaky feeling the famous fit one is gonna win every time. Even without being best mates with the owner.
So..... If you ever feel like giving me grief when you see me out (or even if you know someone that might want to give me grief cos they think it's funny) - think again before you actually do it (or let them do it) cos it's gonna be you sitting on the pavement outside the club while we party away inside and have lock-ins til 6am! There isn't mush chance of me not having back up and there is NO chance of the owners/doormen/managers taking anyone's side but mine. Generally I always have people watching my back (as well as the doormen, I mean). You might not see them but they are there. Like, the best-dressed man ever. You might not even realise he's with me but he is and he watches everything. If someone kicks off, often he's there before a doorman and he's more than happy to 'escort' people to the front door (in fact he delights in doing it). Just use your brain before you think you're being big and clever in insulting me or pouring a drink over me - the only thing you are going to achieve by doing it is to be looking at a grey cold pavement. I, on the other hand, will still be having fun and dancing my stilettos off because I refuse to let weirdos get me down. As soon as the bloke got thrown out last night we all carried on dancing and laughing. It's forgotten as soon as it's done. I then have something interesting to write about on my blog and the weirdos, well, they just get thrown out and have to get a cab home.
God, I wish everyone was as switched on as me and my friends. If they were then the world would be a better place. Even if I wasn't famous, I wouldn't DREAM of going up to a celebrity in a club (or anywhere else) and giving them abuse. What would I achieve from it?! Nada, zero, zilch. It wouldn't make me feel like a bigger, better person. It wouldn't make me happy. It wouldn't make me look cool in front of my mates. In fact I would look like a jellus, bitter, twisted freak with no real power whatsoever and while I was being dragged out by my ear, people would be laughing at me out of pity and disgust for the drunk "loser" that harasses people, now being kicked to the kerb.
So, the night, apart from the freaks was good. I did have a couple more tiny incidents from a couple of weird women but it was ok cos their mates apologised profusely for their behaviour and we all happily danced the night away.
I got in drunk at about 4am and me and Lauren looked at my holiday photos on the computer. I pulled sad faces every time one of the fit barman came up. I must have looked at his picture a thousand times since I've been home and snivelled to myself at the thought of him. I am still missing him like mad!!!!!
I told Motorbike Paul all about him and just as I was telling him, he called me from Cyprus. I had a long and emotional chat with him and promptly burst into tears when the conversation ended. Paul hates seeing me cry and comforted me the best he could. I don't know how long the crying is going to last to be honest. I just feel so terribly sad still that I may have left the one true love of my life in a foreign country. I can't cope without him by my side! Please God give me the strength to get on with my life without breaking down in tears every time he calls me!!!!!!!
I am now at my mums. I brought Paddy and Lyla for a visit. My dad said he will take them for a walk today (which is good cos I'm still shaking from last's nights alcohol consumption). My mummy is making me a salad baguette as I type this so I am going to eat that and then either go home and die on the sofa or go into Brentwood to meet Lauren and Carolina.
Hope you're all having a great weekend. I am (apart from feeling like there's an empty whole where my heart used to be).
Lots of love and sweat and sex-wees.
Jodie
xxxx
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