Pretty miserable. I’m a bit negative/critical nowadays.

This is incredible. I really like your friends display of champagne.

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I’m beyond 35. I fucking loathed fancy dress when I was in single digits age-wise, never mind now I’m an actual grown-up.

There was a Facebook invite last year to an old class-mate’s fancy dress birthday party which was treated with the scornful silence it bloody deserved.

Dancing is also the worst, I’m with @anon5266188 here. Unless it’s to embarrass the offspring in front of their friends, of course.

Parties in their totality are dreadful affairs, imm(eaningless)o.

Unless they’re at Laser Tag, I think I could get behind one of those.

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I was born in the snow

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I am completely non-miserable, but have some traits that people might mistake for it. I HATE noisy pubs, but that’s where so many people seem to like to go. Give me the “old man” pubs, but that’s because I want to talk to my friends and if I’m in a Pitcher and Piano I might as well not be there.

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So I don’t actually think any human endeavour, even the undeniably good stuff - is essentially “worth” the effort, and so I probably come under this category.

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That said, I did once cycle through Stamford Hill and Stoke Newington while dressed as a chicken…

Group email
Subject: Office night out (YAY!)
A date for your diary peeps: Fri 16th Feb. We are going out in town for a few quite drinks (AND A LOAD OF REALLY LOUD ONES!!!) straight from the office. Bring your glad rags and your best smiles, and make sure you be totally on fleek.

  • YAY!
  • Sounds fun but I will just come for the food
  • Put me down for a maybe
  • Erm, I have a prior engagement, sorry
  • FO,M

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My miserableness is steeped in an unhealthy cynicism.

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Fortunately the majority of my immediate colleagues have a preference for old fashioned pubs that serve quality real ale.

Our last work Christmas do was at Fabric. Our department pub crawled there. Got our free drinks and food. Then pissed off to another proper boozer as quickly as possible.

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Told this before, but once replied to an office-wide email about going bowling to say I was busy, not noticing they hadn’t set a date yet.

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Tonight I have a rehearsal. Steph is cheerfully arranging to cook pancakes for everyone.

I just want to play drums and fuck off, mate.

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I have a terrible habit of getting very very excited about things or suggesting mad plans such as weekends away, themed parties etc… and then never saying or doing anything about them again… until I’m drunk again. Also always dread things until I do them and they’re fine.

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I’m imagining you using big pancakes as drum pad/ mute things now (is that what you call them?, are they even a thing, no idea)

Giant Naan bread in the bass drum

I feign miserability to hide my hurt at never being invited to a fancy dress party

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The laughter of others sometimes makes my shudder

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Really like the band miserable

Overwhelming majority for “fuck that” and “I wish it wasn’t”

Fancy dress lovers (all three of you) take note, the vast, vast majority of people can’t be fucked with it. Enjoy it yourself all you like but please, please stop enforcing it on your friends and family.

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Last time I was job hunting I saw an advert for a role that would have suited me perfectly. Except it also said: “We’re a fun bunch of people who enjoy socialising after work.” No.

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