I'm setting my sites on good night out.. maybe.
Are you in or out? Not the sort of question that a guy likes to hear of an evening.
But it is becoming a more common poser these days as many of us are kyboshing a night on the tiles for a night tucked up in the house.
The reason being that we tend to prefer talking to our virtual friends than our real ones.
To be honest, I don't get this whole world of Face Book and Bebo.
Social networking for me means striking up conversation in the dole queue.
Then there's this malarkey when you're invited to poke someone.
Usually, that sort of thing costs me at least two rounds of drink and a taxi fare home.
There's now even a dating website for pets called dogbook.
Look, if you want to pick up hounds, I know a few good bars to hang about at chucking out time.
I have tried the old online dating, but I found it only works if both people have the same speed of computer.
See, I only had dial-up and the girl in question had broadband. She just thought I was a bit on the slow side. She wasn't far wrong.
I thought a space bar was a place ET and Han Solo went for a drink after work. I also thought the mouse button was called a cursor because you had to keep swearing at it to get it to work.
I was further put to shame this week when the Queen even admitted to being an avid internet user. Now this is a woman just a bit out of touch.
Come on, she thought The One Show was a TV programme made for her. And the Royal Family think a search engine is a Landrover sent out to find the fox.
I still think you can't beat a proper night out. The sights you see out and about are something you're just not going to come across sitting in the house.
As I'm sure you're aware, Scottish street theatre is alive and well. I'm not talking about these pan pipers that knock your pan in every Saturday.
I'm referring to the pub graduates at closing time leaving with their liquid degree. Shouting incoherently and performing and impromptu jig with a bemused k9 companion.
Pitched correctly, it's the sort of thing that could win awards. At the very least, a spot on the Strictly Come Dancing.
That rush for the taxi from the pub door is the modern day equivalent of the Highland clearances.
For the historically lacking, that was when Scottish crofters were driven off their farms by English landowners. Not, as my mate Gordy thought, a sale at a carpet shop in Inverness.
Generally, staying in and going out are two worlds that never meet. In fact, the only hard drive you have when you're out is the taxi journey home bursting for a pee going over 3000 speed bumps. Although I have heard awkward chat about a three and a half inch floppy at many a bar.
So tonight it's up to you to decide what camp you're in - space bar or spaced out at a bar.
I know I'll be heading out for a big one. Well that is unless it's chilly... and I'm a bit tired... and the telly's good... och, I'll just log on and see if I can poke someone instead.
'The only hard drive you have when you're out is the taxi journey home, when you're bursting for apee and going over 3000 speed bumps'
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|Publication:||Daily Record (Glasgow, Scotland)|
|Date:||Sep 13, 2008|
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