Ode to a crazy night

Just had a flashback to one of my first Saturday mornings in London with 4 hung-over friends. We’d been out the night before and had very little recollection of what had happened that night. I mean, I remember getting ready to meet two of our other friends in town, I remember making margaritas, not from scratch of course. From one of those “ready-mix-just-add-tequila” stuff. I also remember quickly running out of margaritas and switching to the whisky (yuck!), vodka (yay!) and gin. Needless to say, in less than an hour, we were already pretty giggly and by the time we’d met up with our friends in Shoreditch, we were absolutely shit-faced. From this point on every thing was a blur. Anyway, the next morning, each of us woke up with battle scars and our faces stretched so hard frm constantly laughing. I mean my breasts were so sore, Friend 1 had a very sore nose, Friend 2 has lost her bra, Friend 3 had a sore bum and back and Friend 5 had lost his phone (Oh the horror!). We soon put the pieces together -

- My sore breasts: turns out I had insisted on doing star-jumps throughout the night to show people how good I was at them (or something of the sort) and all the vigorous jumping without a sports bra has obviously led to my “battle scars”...

- Sore nose: this was the result of a very childish school prank (which always seem hilarious when you’re drunk regardless of how lame they actually are). In said game, you pretended to pick something from your friend’s pocket and show it to them, then when they’re not expecting it and still trying to look at what you’ve got in your hands, you smack them right in the face. (Hilarious for everyone but the person who gets smacked.)

- Lost bra: Easy! This was traded off for a hat.(Make whatever character assumption you will of my friend here but it was a very dapper hat! She reasoned she had lots of bras anyway but no dapper hats.

Sore bum and back: Well, that’s what you get for insisting of giving people piggyback rides and then tripping and falling over while carrying said person. Another hilarious moment for all but the people involved…. Actually, scratch that, photo evidence suggests this was a hilarious moment for all! Why do things seem so much funnier when you’re drunk?

Lost phone: No brainer really! That is if you’re not trying to think with a hangover. After phone calls to the club and the taxi company and general state of panic/worry/alert for just over an hour, Friend 2 had the brilliant idea of trying to call the phone and turns out, it was just wedged in the sofa. *I hang my head in shame*

And then, we called the other two friends (hoping to hear they sounded as bad as we did, and to our delight, they did!) In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have made that call because a torrent of painful and embarrassing flashback came flooding right back! Namely;

- Me attempting to pole dance on a lamppost

- Me pinching random guy’s and girl’s bum while waiting to get served at the bar and then throwing dirty looks at some strangers (or at my friends) and pretending they did it. I could have gotten in so much trouble for this but it was sooooooo worth it!

- Me asking people to grope my breasts and feel how pert they were (holy goodness, why?!!! And why did no one stop me?!!!) Actually, this might explain the sore breasts…

- Friend 2 trying to “surf the crowd” and landing flat on her ass (which might also explain the sore nose)…

- Several mock sexual positions while on the toilet queue (No judgement here people… I’m sure I’ve seen worse from people on the dance floor.)

- A certain friend walking right into a glass door – Priceless!!!

I’d list more but I’ve just very suddenly had to step away from my laptop. A distraction in the form of JLS has just appeared on my TV and I’m afraid I can no longer continue… Mmmm.... *licks lips* Is it wrong to watch a boy-band just because they’re cute? I can’t even hear what they’re singing about (love, cars, girls or cheese for all I care). I’m distracted by them and I’m just going to surrender myself to the hotness… Catch you later