My hand's getting tired from pumping
Dear Diary. My brother's getting married in April. He's put me in charge of the stag party.
I've never been on a stag party before, let alone organised one. Maybe my brother should have asked someone with actual experience instead.
All I know about stag parties is what I've seen in films and on the telly. There was The Hangover, that was a stag party. And I once saw a scene on Eastenders where a bunch of drunken men tie the groom to a lamppost and leave him there. In fact, that's my brain's go-to image when I think of stag parties: a man tied to a lamppost.
Last weekend, I asked my friend Maria if she knew anything about stag parties. Her reply was:
"When my brother got married, his friends threw him a stag party. They stripped him naked, tied him to a giant crucifix, and drove him around town on the back of a pickup truck. They stopped outside all the clubs and honked the horn to make everyone look. He eventually managed to get loose from the ropes and ran home."
Well, okay then.
Maria's from Argentina by the way, a country where I guess tying your friend naked to a crucifix is an everyday occurrence.
She went on:
"I have a nephew who had a stag party once, and his friends shaved chunks of hair off his head. That was a bad thing to do. The wedding photos were ruined."
At least it's not like Emmerdale, where the wedding ceremony ends with an out-of-control helicopter crashing into the village hall and killing half the guests.
Ryanair
Anyway, we're doing the stag party in Birmingham because that's where all brother's friends live. I don't. I live in Spain. So the first thing I had to do today was to book flights to and from Birmingham. The cheapest flights were with Ryanair. Ryanair's okay, but the only thing I don't like is the booking process.
You need a degree in advanced technical bollockry to book a flight on the Ryanair website. Every fucking page tries to add an extra cost. Why not buy a reserved seat? Priority boarding? Extra suitcase, security fast track, free flight cancellation? Want to bring a guitar on board for €50? Need travel insurance? Would you like a pre-paid card to spend on the plane's snacks trolley? What about car hire or transport to and from the airport? Would you like to offset your CO2 emissions for €3.57 per person?
The buttons that add extra charges are bright yellow whereas the buttons to skip the charges are dull and greyed out. If you're not careful, you end up with a rental car, health insurance, and a small pet dog to take with you on the plane (choice between bichon frise and chihuahua).
I went through the booking process carefully, making sure Ryanair didn't sneakily try to add on any extra charges. But by doing this, I almost booked the wrong day because there was so much other stuff distracting me.
With the flights booked, the next thing to book was go-karting, a fun activity for the groom and stags. So I booked the go-karting for six people. Then I got an email saying I only booked for four people. Jesus Christ, is nothing ever simple?
So I sent an email to the go-karting place, explaining I had booked six tickets but I only have four tickets. A few minutes later, they replied with an apology and the six tickets.
Caitlin Moran
With the stag party more-or-less organised, it was onto the next important task: web scraping every article ever written by Caitlin Moran from The Times website so I can get them printed in a book and read them at my leisure.
Also, this is fairly urgent, because The Times is charging me 1 pound every month for the subscription, and that's 1 pound a month I could be spending on testosterone gels instead.
Caitlin Moran's written over 2,000 articles so downloading them all is a big task. But thankfully it only takes a few hours thanks to Python, plus ChatGPT helping me write the code. I'm using AI to commit piracy.
Also today, I did three lots of laundry. I finally got to solve the mystery of what lies at the bottom of the laundry basket: it's odd socks. About twenty of my socks, all of them odd. This also solves the mystery of why I only ever have odd socks. (As I'm writing this, my left foot has a blue sock and my right foot has a black sock).
Balloons
In the afternoon, I picked 6-year-old up from school. I took a bicycle pump and a bag of modelling balloons with me to make a few balloon models for the kids. I don't know how to make any balloon models except for a hat and a sword, but I planned to use balloon modelling tutorials on YouTube to help me. Well, that plan went to bollox when I got bombarded by fifty kids, all wanting balloons. "My hand's getting tired from pumping up these balloons," I moaned to the mom sitting next to me. At least my hand wasn't tired from pumping my dick for a change.
I had no time to model the balloons into anything, so I just handed the balloons out as they were. The kids didn't mind.
Meetup
In the evening I went to a Meetup group for people who want to make new friends in Girona. When I got to the place, I looked through the window and saw about thirty people inside, all chatting to each other. "Nope," I said and carried on walking.
I walked around the block to build up my courage. When I'd made a full circle I finally walked inside.
A group of girls looked at me as I walked in. My face must have made an expression of fear and consternation, because one of the girls laughed.
Another girl came over and started talking to me. She was a Spanish girl in her late teens / early twenties. She had acne on her face.
"We will have a lot of people here tonight," she said. "25 people said they were coming but we think we will have about 50 people actually come."
"Oh," I said. "Well I'm one of the people who didn't bother to say they were coming, so sorry about that."
We were silent for a bit.
"So where are you from?" I asked.
"I am from Madrid," she said.
More silence.
"So what are you doing in Girona?" I asked.
"I am here for work. I am a project manager."
Managing what project I don't know since she only looked about eighteen.
We talked about languages for a bit then I ran out of things to say. So we stood there awkwardly some more and then she finally said, "Well, I'm going to the bar to get a drink."
I thought about offering to buy her a drink. I decided I didn't want to.
The girl went to the bar. I waited a minute so it didn't seem like I was following her and then I went to the bar too. I bought an alcohol-free beer. Then I stood by myself, occasionally sipping on the beer, while other people chatted around me.
I somehow got drawn into a conversation between a 40-something Dutch woman and a 50-something Catalan man. I learned that the Dutch woman's name was Mariah and the Catalan man's name was Manel. Manel could only speak Catalan and Spanish, Mariah could only speak Spanish and English, and I can only speak English and Catalan, so it was a weird triangle where only two of us could talk together at the same time.
I ended up talking mostly to the Dutch woman, Mariah. I think she was a bit drunk because everything I said, she found hilarious.
"I'm bad at socialising," I said.
"What? So why did you come here?" asked Mariah.
"My girlfriend made me come here. She says I have to make friends."
Mariah laughed.
"She said I could stay here as long as I want," I said. "In fact, she wants me to stay until the end. I can't make friends. I've been going to the same gym class twice a week for years but I don't talk to anyone there. I'm so bad at socialising that I have to ask ChatGPT for advice."
Mariah smiled. "What did ChatGPT say?"
"Well, it gave me some conversation starters. Like, 'Hello.'"
Her foreheard creased with disbelief and she stared at me, trying to work out whether I was joking or not. Then she burst into laughter.
"'Hello?' Didn't you know that already?"
"Not really. Like I said, I'm bad at socialising."
"So what else did ChatGPT tell you?" she asked.
"Well, it also said I can say 'Hi, my name's Paul. What's your name?'"
She looked at me in stunned disbelief. Then she burst into laughter.
I smiled. "And I was like, 'Whoa. That's actually a really good way to start a conversation with people.'"
She laughed. "Well, yeah. Duh."
By the way, it's only now I realise the irony of asking a robot for tips on human interaction.
"I joined a gym," I said "On the first day, the gym instructor asked me what my goals were. 'I want to look like Captain America,' I said. He laughed because I was just a weak guy and he thought I was joking. But I wasn't joking. I kept going to the gym every day. And one day I hurt my left tricep. Then another day I hurt my right bicep. Then I hurt my legs and I had to walk on a crutch. Then I got tendonitis in my elbows. Then I developed a bad back. But right now, I'm fine, so that's good. That is, as long as I don't sneeze. If I sneeze then my body will fall apart. "
She laughed at this.
I've always thought I'd make a good comedian. All I'd have to do is go up on stage and tell people about my life. I wouldn't even have to make any jokes. My life's so weird that it's funny enough already.
At the end of the night she asked if I wanted to exchange phone numbers.
"Wow! Sure!" I said. "I think this is the first time I've ever exchanged phone numbers with someone."
She looked equal parts surprised and sympathetic. "Really?"
"Actually thinking about it, I got a phone number off a girl in a club once. But it turned out to be a fake number. I tried texting it the next day and none of my messages got through."
Now that I think about it, there's been loads of times I've exchanged phone numbers with people during my life, so I don't know what I was talking about.
"Do you like Belgian beer?" she said.
"I've never tried it," I said.
"Well there's a cafe here in Girona called Hors Categorie? They sell beer from Belgium. We should go some time."
Before you start thinking she was flirting with me, let me tell you that her boyfriend was standing right next to her. His name was Arnold. That's Arnold, as in Arnold Schwarzenegger. He didn't have big muscles though.
I exchanged numbers with Arnold instead of Mariah for some reason. Then I left and went home.
Sorry for the anti-climatic ending.
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