On Friday night I met up with a couple of work-related friends and we started drinking at a couple of the more respectable establishments in Sydney. Hours later we were hopping from one trashy bar to another on Oxford Street when the night ended around 2am because one girl seemed to have sprained or broken her ankle and couldn't actually walk. We confirmed the next morning that she was fine, meaning she was simply so drunk that her ankle had stopped working.
After sleeping until noon the next day, I managed to stay sober for just a few hours until meeting up with the Hickster and a few bottles of wine. My hopes of having a quiet-ish night to recover were clearly when I ended up dancing and doing shots at a club in the Cross after midnight, using someone's birthday as an excuse.
I think I have a problem.