Let's have a party

I feel that the idea of having fun is being lost, greatly and tragically. I mean there was this good ole' time when we could sit in someone's livingroom and observe women, slug our beers listen to good music and things would fit into place. But last evening was this particular distraction, and if the Sisters of Mercy weren't there I would've been confined to an eternity of boredom.
So here I was all smartened and suave to find that the place Paradiso (god knows what it means, and should've rather been Hello) was where I'd been once before. Its basically this dark cave-like place, with music that will burst the fuckin' curtains of your ears and a population that largely consists of 98.8 per cent males.
And as sweet luck would have it, it was just what I'd feared. So me and the Sisters of Mercy went to have a beer. Came back and sat on the sofa, and I felt that I had sat upon a wet patch. Trust me that feeling when you feel your jeans gettin soaked is one shitty time. Apparently, it was some stupid boquet that had leaked. Anyway with that amazing sound of shit music from Sir Himesh to Sir asshole, our conversation sounded that of elderly folks. "Hah, what? ya ya"....And the "Yes, yes, so what did you say (hah)...oh what you didn't say anything...oh?" Sorts.
Went back to the bar to find out that the beer had gone but there was only vodka left, fair as well. When we finished with that, I returned to the bar to know that the vodka was over and so was the bar.
When you're not that drunk, when you're not that pansy dancer, and weird women from clouds of smoke are passing a smile -- nothing makes quite sense. In a little while, countless smokes had been smoked and I was wonderin' Cohen's lines: "this place is dead as heaven on Saturday nights." Where the fuck do they go to have fun? Oh lord. I found death between drunks and women who thought Ezra Pound had a funny name.