Would someone please explain to me how I woke up on Saturday morning dressed like Cindy Lauper?
Wearing a blue, satin-sequined, shoulder-padded monstrosity and white ski pants that came up to my boobs? And the side ponytail?
I know I went for a drink with a mate, then then we went to a drinks do at Baze's house. I know that I drank a few Energising Red Square's and I know me and my mate were talking and laughing a lot about all sort's of shit. The last thing I remember is having a drunken telephone conversation with Mr 747 who was equally boozed (he was in the bush on golf tour with his mates for the weekend.)
I remember a car journey – my mate drove – so where, pray, the fuck were my normal clothes?
Ah. At Baze's house.
I was exhausted on Saturday, having spent some time with mum and getting home at 2:00am. I tried to do some work on a writing project I'm doing, and fiddle around with my new camera (an early birthday present from mum – so exciting), but instead ended up crawling around The frigging Zone buying new shoes and toothpaste.
I saw the Harry Pothead movie on Sunday with Mr 747. That dude is hot. His balls have dropped and he's ripe for picking. He's probably legal now too. Yummy.