So yeah.
Sadly, while I did not get my funny, you know, on last night I did spend an intriguing if now somewhat blurred evening drinking and apparently dancing. How many are injured or dead is, as yet, unknown.

I did however manage to construct a picture of events from witness accounts and the evening seems to have progressed as such:
1) People arrive at my house. We watch the Animatrix. I apparently drink half a bottle of vodka.
2) We leave, leaving my housemate to watch the rest of the Animatrix on my computer and, apparently, cruise for porn.
3) We get to the Sugarhouse, the university club, and I then apparently attempt to drink all the vodka in the club. As to why, bystanders say I mentioned "The war... martians......dirty, under my skin."
I can only conclude that the Spar vodka I had already consumed affected my brain.
4) I'm simaltaneously attacked by 4 rampant hot women. Seriously.
5) Crushed when I realise that they are in fact only there to embarass me about the fact I pulled their housemate, I retreat. Into vodka. This doesn't help.
6) I kick it with some mad grooves on the dance floor, while being further poked fun at by the hot girls. Damnit. Reports also indicate I "got down" and "funky like a monkey". As to the depth of down or level of funk, scientists are currently working on finding out.
7) Somehow, despite all my best efforts, the club still has vodka reserves. I go back in, if only for sake of the kids. Think of the kids.
8) Some kinda dimensional rift or something must have opened up 'cause the world went all blurry and kinda slow and people started talking all funny. Damn Martians.
9) I mentioned the vodka, right?

After this... well, who can say. I am forced to conclude the rift closed early this morning, leaving me with an interdimensional headache and a lot of random bruises and scrapes. I also have the nickname "Hannahs Bitch" or "The Gimp", ala Pulp Fiction. Also, I apparently walk past their house every day or so, causing much laughter and pointing from within, like witches. Hot witches, granted. Which, actually, is pretty cool. Hot witches would rock, they'd be all "We're totally evil and wear leather and ".... Um. Yeah. Anyway, they didn't tell me the address so I now lurk in dark alleys and change my route to uni every day. While I'm considering getting in contact with Hannah, 'cause, you know, she's hot, I leave in 3 weeks for America. C'est la vie.

Edit: Happy 21st Doc, you crazy bastard