Daahling, I think you're a homophobe

Friday night-

I finish work and I am pumped. I'm gonna go out, drink a lot of alcohol, talk a lot of bullshit and hopefully talk to some very interesting people. First up, a small function. I get there, and I just don't know what to expect- oh, there's a band. niiice. Oh, it's upstairs and it's outside with a view of the harbour- niiiice. There's a bunch of lawyers here- hey they're a fairly eclectic bunch- sweeet. I'm working with Jo, a guy who looks like the Rock's younger brother with a french louisiana accent to boot- funny guy too. Awesome. Booked for 47 people, small and easy.
With 15min past the starting time, we have what... 16 people. WTF.. 3 floor staff and the chef serving 16 people. You've got to be kidding. Omfg, they're drinking ORANGE JUICE AND LIGHT BEER?! The wine, the sparkles, the beer- what are they doing.. :S Jo's asleep at the bar. I'm trying to forcefeed my guests.. more oj, more food? The band has set up inside and everyone has moved to the open area. So they have to move. I've been giving Jo shit for a week after the aids function he worked where all the prettyboys there were flirting with him- I get the most horrible of looks from all three of the bandmembers. Oh, if I looked closer, yeah, one of them is a flamboyantly feminine type of male. woops. They don't know the calamity that occurs when you have 4 attractive heterosexual males working a gay function. They just hear- aids, prettyboys, some other random stuff- Death stares, totally warranted. I really couldn't care, I'll just can the shit-talk. After a rivetting two hours and I'm drained and beg to be sent home, let me party >.< On getting home, I realise that my mind has been robbed of any capacity, and the body is following. Quick sleep. Let's forget that I was seen as nasty person that night.