I've decided that I need to be WAY more careful about my drinking on Fridays. As nice as it is to have someone walk into my office at 4pm on a Friday and hand me a beer, it's about time that I recognize that it's only the beginning of a very slippery slope into being a drunken mess mere hours later. For example...
After drinking in the office for a couple of hours, I headed across the street with coworkers for a few drinks. Of course I drank extra quickly because I was already late to meet various people at another bar. Once I got there I drank quickly because it was getting close to the time I was supposed to head someone's house for drinks. And finally, after arriving there I poured myself a couple of vodka tonics, and that is pretty much where my memory ends.
Based on text messages and IM conversations I've had since then, I am lucky I escaped without a) a restraining order or b) a stab wound. Apparently I recognized someone from TV, couldn't quite remember where, and thought it would be perfectly okay to harass him to try and get him to tell me what show it was despite the fact he constantly denied it. In my defense, I remembered as soon as I woke up the next morning that he was a photographer or something on Australia's Next Top Model.
Supposedly I also may have yelled something along the lines of "Can a nigga get some collard greens up in heeya?!" No idea what would have prompted that. Guess I was hungry.
Took it easy for most of the day since I knew I had to head out to Epping in the evening for my cousin's birthday dinner and drinks. Epping is north of Sydney, so it's like having to leave Manhattan to go to Westchester for a party. Oh, and did I mentioned that the trains weren't working? Took me about 90 minutes. Guess who REALLY needed a drink once he got there.
Of course I then started running my mouth (it's what I do best, as most of my friends can attest to) and prompted my uncle to utter the line of the night, by far:
"You're an even bigger bitch than your mother."
Possibly made better by the fact that he followed it up with "And you can tell her I said that!" No problem Uncle Mick, she reads the blog. Have fun with that.
We proceeded to head to the Epping Pub (aka the strictest place on earth, especially considering it's in the suburbs; they made me show my passport at the door because my NY State Drivers License wasn't good enough, and drinks were not allowed on the actual dance floor) which was fun in that cheesy way where you can do whatever you want because you're surrounded by people from places you wouldn't go unless they had the only remaining liver transplant that you desperately needed, AND refused to bring it to you for large sums of money. So yeah, we had a blast and naturally I had my camera so now you can all enjoy the nonsense that was my Saturday night.
Crashed at my cousin's place in Epping, and by the time I'd finished lunch with them and got back to my place it was too late to make it to meet LN and Dan-man at the beach to touch up my tan. Tragic.