The shit blog of Paul Chris Jones

7 pm. Girlfriend and I are going out to eat. This is a special occasion so I decide to wear my shirt. My only shirt. I rarely wear shirts. It is not who I am.

Dear Diary. On the way, I feel self-aware about my shirt. I watch the expressions of passersby, looking for any shred of criticism on their faces. Disappointed, I find nothing. People don't care about my shirt.

9.45 pm. After the restaurant, I want to get drunk. I have planned in advanced I will get drunk. It has been a long time since I was last drunk. "Let's get waaasted!" I say. "Woohoo!" However, our alcohol is in the apartment. Girlfriend doesn't want to go back there, and I don't want to spend money at a bar. I feel my excitement ebbing away. "It's ok, we can get drunk another day," I say, resigned.

10pm. Every summer there are fireworks displays at the theme park La Ronde, and they can be seen for free from across the river. That's where we are now. It is raining. The fireworks should be impressive but I have seen it all before.

11.30pm. We get to a bar. We are here to support our friend Marion, because tonight is her bartender test. If she does well then the bar will offer her a job.

Let me explain a little further. Three weeks ago she was interviewed for a job as a bartender. The bar told her the training would be $280, at her expense. Already you can tell this is a SCAM SCAM SCAM. Most of the training is online so it is very cheap to run. And a job has not been guaranteed to Marion.

To add to the scam further, tonight is the practical aspect of her training. The bar's manangers told her to invite her friends, as these will be the people she serves to. They implied that if she doesn't bring friends, she will have no-one to serve. SCAM SCAM SCAM. Marione is being SCAMMED.

I am annoyed that I have become involved in this scam. But Girlfriend brought me here so we can show our support. Without Marion's friends coming, the danger implied is that she will have no one to serve to and she will fail the test. Thus, I am here, albeit cynically.

The first thing that hits me in the bar is the noise. It is some extremely loud generic club music. Music is all over the club. You can't escape from it. It is almost impossible to talk to one another. The music is being played from speakers hidden in the ceiling.

And the place is red. So much so that all my photos come out red. That photo, I haven't altered it in Photoshop. The bar really does look like that.

There are not many people - maybe thirty. Pretty much everyone is at the back of the club where the bar is.

It is not yet Marion's turn to bartend so we wait.

12.30 am. Finally, it is Marion's turn to bartend. She bartends for about 10 minutes. Not a very comprehensive test, I think.

I get my drink and the DJ begins to play faintly nostalgic music. I decide to dance. I make it my objective to make Melody’s friend laugh every time she looks at me. This means doing stereotypical moves exaggeratedly while contorting my face into humorous expressions.

"What happened to you?" asks Girlfriend, pleasantly surprised by my energy.

"I'm bored," I say.