On Friday I didn't have any firm plans and decided to meet up with Scuzzy, a friend of a friend who's recently moved to Sydney from New York. All was well and good, and we were behaving like polite adults and all, until my former coworker CamCam finally made an appearance.
CamCam is always trouble, partially because she's naturally mischievous, and partially because she has a thing about ordering rounds of tequila shots until everyone (or at least Zander) is laying on the ground in a stupor.
And so the night continued as any night with CamCam does, with all of us getting smashed, befriending randoms, and then starting a whole new round of tequila shots with our new found friends.
Woke up feeling the pain on Saturday, and eventually went to meet Lou for a blate lunch before Fry and Duff's farewell drinks. Let me tell you, I don't remember the last time it hurt so much to attempt to drink a beer. I made it about 20% of the way through before realizing I might vomit everywhere.
I therefore did the responsible thing and started drinking wine instead.
However, after drinking for 8 hours, I was in that condition where you had so much to drink the night before that there's no amount of alcohol that will actually get you trashed, and so I gave up and headed home by midnight.
So now Fry and Duff, my best friends in Sydney, are gone. I find this thoroughly depressing, but somehow I'm thinking I will manage. Nothing a cold bottle of vodka can't cure...