Alright, here's what happened...
On Saturday night we had a gig at the Whammy Bar, and Kent and I were both prior feeling a bit burned out and not really looking forward to having to play, but showed up as we do, and yeah. Crowd was slow to build up, but ended up being not so bad really. We had loads of technical difficulties, mostly based around my good lead, which is now my broken lead... but we salvaged the first few songs with a killer Realistic Computers, the new song, and ended up getting everyone going and blah blah blah as I said before already.

Sooooo... had a good night, exchanged funny school stories with Tom from the bar, had a smoke with the Randoms guys and hung out with Rachel and others. Eventually it was time to pack up and head home. I'd taken one load of stuff on the carrying-trolley-thing, and was back for a second when I saw a guy I'd seen at gigs of ours before leaning up against the drum monitor. It was balanced on a wobbly table or boxes or something, and he was nearly knocking it over. I let him know, he was so absolutely drunk he didn't seem to care. I held the speaker up and tried to talk him off it - instead, he leaned against it harder, and put his arm around me. Still laughing at how odd it felt to be holding up a guy when I wasn't exactly 100% sober myself, I called to Kent to help me get him away from the monitor. The guy started jokingly coming on to me (at least I assume it was a joke - he's never seemed gay before, and Kent said later on he'd been acting a bit funny all night), and I tried again to get Kent's help, beginning to doubt he was joking.

Just then, he moved off both the amp and I, and made it all out to be a bit of fun. I laughed, suggesting I'd been pretty well "punked" or something, but reiterating that we were trying to clear the stage, so if he could get out of the way, that'd be awesome. He didn't want to, and Kent and one or two others put their feet down so to speak, and encouraged him to get off the stage. They herded him off, which was only two metres or so away, and I began looking around for more stuff of ours we needed to take.

Then just as I turned and saw Kent with his back towards me, standing in front of the guy, I was hit square in the left eye by a bottle. I fell (it's a weird feeling - I didn't fall because the impact physically knocked me over, but my body just kinda wanted to go that way - like it was more of an involuntary ducking) behind the drumkit, and grabbed my eye. After a few seconds I realised I wasn't knocked out or anything, and stood up, still holding my eye. Kent and one or two others had knocked the guy to the ground, and he was protesting, not happy about being forced to the ground. I walked out, and in frustration kicked him in the side of his hip, not very hard I don't think. It's kind of lame to kick someone when two or three other people are sitting on them I suppose, but I still wasn't sure what exactly was going on.

I heard someone shout, "Why hasn't anyone called the cops?" so called them myself. I went up the stairs to ensure better reception. One of the bar staff came over and asked me to take my hand off my eye, so they could see how bad it was - I did, slowly opened my eye, and was glad I could still see. Unfortunately, the first thing I saw was my left hand covered in blood, haha. He went to get a first aid kit.

It's a bit of a blur after that. One of the bar guys cleaned up my eye, the cops eventually arrived and took a statement. The cop gave me the statement to read and sign, but there were so many errors I wanted to make some changes. The cop got shitty with me, and said things like, "just fucking sign it," and other things like how he didn't really care and that I was being difficult (I can't remember his exact wording, but it was riddled with the f-bomb and upset me considerably, seeing as I'd just been clocked at short range with a glass bottle and was now being interrogated as if I'd deserved it).  The Whammy Bar guys were awesome, and joked they didn't mind hanging around as they were all on the clock and probably getting paid overtime. Okay, the overtime was my call, but I'm not their boss.

The ambulance never eventuated, so Kent shuttled me to the hospital in Grafton. To cut a long story short, anyone who wants a tax cut this election is a fucking retard, as this place was so ridiculously understaffed it makes me feel bad for complaining about where I work. That, and the receptionist was a total fucking grade-A biatch. As I said previously, she told me to use a public phone when I asked if I could have a working pen to fill out my ACC form, and refused to speak to tariqa fullstop. That's what pissed me off most, perhaps. Tariqa got out of bed as soon as it was legal for her to drive and came in to be with me, whod' just been attacked with a glass bottle (to put it dramatically), and they refused to speak to her because she wasn't the patient. Fuck that biatch, fuck her with the broken bottle that hit me in the face (at least I hope it broke - I'd hate to lose a fight with a inanimate object, even if it got the first punch).

The lady who replaced her at 6.30am or so was awesome though.

Anyway, got a tetanus shot, came home, and yeah. No stitches, but I'm not entirely convinced that was because I didn't need any - perhaps the nurse was as incompetent as the police and reception staff - though it seems like it might heal fine. The shoulder where the tetanus shot went in hurts more at the moment, to be honest!

And that's pretty much the whole story. I figure I'll need to come up with something more awesome to tell my kids though - if it scars. Any suggestions?

TOP 5 ALBUMS OF THE WEEK!

1. Sia - Some People Have Real Problems
2. Goldfrapp - Seventh Tree
3. Jeff Buckley - Grace
4. V/A - Saturday Morning Cartoons
5. Nick Cave - Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!