Party...

Imagine, if you will, a party.

That party is, in fact, my life.

Now, you might say "that's a pretty awesome life you've got Nick", but let me tell you something about this particular party.

It's the kind of party where you know no-one. All the beer's already been drunk, and the food makes you vomit. Some idiot is hanging in the corner playing music. His taste in music is terrible, but that's okay because you only hear the first thirty seconds of a song before he shakes his head, and changes to something almost identically dreadful.

You want to go home, but you can't because it would be rude, and you need to at least let the host know you're here, so you hover nervously around the edge of a conversation. When it finishes, half-an-hour later the host turns to you and says "I'll be back in a minute". You don't see them for the rest of the night.

The guy in the corner final picks a song he likes, and you decide to show off your dance moves. You pull a muscle, and fall to the ground, where you also manage to get a blood nose. Nobody offers to help.

You manage to get back up, but one of your contacts has fallen out. You eventually find it under the sofa. It's covered in cat hair. No-one in a ten-mile radius owns a cat. So where did the hair come from?

You turn to make your way to the bathroom and, quite by accident because you cannot see, punch the host's girlfriend in the face. As you try to apologize, you rip her dress.

The evening ends with you, blind, and feeling like you're going to throw up, being pummeled to death by the host, before thrown out for being "drunk and embarrassing".

That is my party, sometimes.