Apparently not having learned my lesson about getting drunk before even leaving the office on Fridays, this night just turned into a bit of a mess. Not that I can remember most of it, but I do remember the first and second tequila shots. What I don't remember is apparently yelling at a friend, or how I ended up getting home. As a rule I avoid tequila (and gin, for that matter) since nothing good ever comes of either of them, and I do remember saying "Oh no! Not tequila shots!", but apparently I didn't object enough that I was able to stop myself from tossing them in the general direction of my mouth. Ah well, at least after whatever transpired following the shots will probably make that group of people think twice before suggesting tequila next time.
Despite feeling awful all day Saturday, I still managed to rally for the drinks at my place at 5.30 for Angie's bday. I told everyone how I probably wouldn't be able to party for more than a couple of hours that night, which is clearly why at 3am I was still tearing up the dancefloor at The Eastern after practically everyone else had gone home. Although props to JuJu for making me look not that bad when she turned to leave, tripped over her own heels, and got a face full of floor. Which left me laughing so hard I simply didn't have the strength to help her up. I am SUCH a good friend.
Sunday I had fortunately bought tickets to see Mission Impossible III moments before I got a call inviting me to drinks, since god knows where that would have ended. So other than sending JuJu a text message along the lines of "Morning babe, eat any good floor lately?", my day was generally free of too many asshole moments. Felt a bit empty, to be honest. Oh and possibly the only thing worse than going to the supermarket while hungover is going to a NEW supermarket while hungover. I actually had to call my flatmate to tell her I was lost and that I needed help getting out, it was tragic.