Yesterday was a Sunday lunch with a few friends, which we knew would be a bit of a piss up, and so we all got a bit carried away.
Carrying the torch for the group though was the Hickster, who managed to go from sober to drunk over the course of about a minute somewhere around 6pm, and never recovered. After her incomprehensible ranting about Ikea taking over the world, Wilks and I faked all of us leaving just so that we could get her into a taxi home. (We then went back inside for a few more rounds.)
Needless to say, the Hickster woke up fully clothed the next morning, calling around to find out what the hell had happened, since she essentially didn't remember anything after 5pm or so.
And it's not even Christmas yet.
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