So [livejournal.com profile] aj_stalin and I were talking the other day about how much fun it was to do the Pirates of the Carribean drinking game which we did two years ago (I think) and since none of us had any plans this Saturday, we decided to do it again. A bottle of sours apple and a bottle of vodka later we were set to go. In fairness we didn't actually get to see a lot of the movie since one of the rules is to take a shot every time someone says "pirate", and they say it about 6 times in the first two minutes of the film. Basically we got to the scene where Orlando Bloom is clumsy when delivering the sword for Commandore Norrington and then we were out of vodka. We tried to make do with sours apple for a while, but it was godawful and we were already pissed so we just watched a lot of youtube and then went out to [livejournal.com profile] 3ff3ct3r's gig, which it turned out was in a dive off the main road. At least we found it, but unfortunately, only about 10 other people could say the same so it was pretty dead and the band never actually went on.

I had a good time anyways, there was good company and a gay guy in a tie who danced outrageously even though the dancefloor was nearly empty. Oh, and I was so drunk that balancing on my high heels was difficult. I still managed to scrape together enough money for a beer though, which turned out to be just enough alcohol to get me past the uncharmingly-drunk-fase and into the slobbering-mass-of-drunken-goo-fase. We went home shortly after and I remember sitting on the kitchen floor with my back to the refridgerator and hazy memories of sex.

Usually, I can reconnect my hazy memories through conversation, so when I woke up this morning, I first tried to recollect everything that happened, and then asked [livejournal.com profile] 3ff3ct3r about the things I was hazy about. But nothing would come back. It's pretty scary actually and has never happened before. I've had sex without remembering much about it. I've showered and gone to bed apparently, but I cannot recall when or how. I had a conversation by the fridge which I only remember about half of. I'm about ready to swear off booze from now on.
I went out last night. Not a big shocker, I know. It was pretty good. Met a few people I haven’t seen for a while, drank some godawful things (like 1/3 of a bottle of cherry wine, blargh!) and had some good conversations till I got too drunk to follow them and went home to my boyfriend. So far so good, right?

Well, this morning I woke up hung over and with a massive attack of post-drunkenness anxiety. This is also business as usual for me, so I didn’t completely freak out. I did, however, put on the outfit I was wearing last night and mentally prepared for the Sunday morning walk-of-shame home. It was as expected. Nicely dressed people on their way home after a wedding passed me as I stumbled, in my very short skirt, unstable on my high heels and with a cleavage like no other, onwards. And then it happened. Then a bird flew by and shat on me. That’s right. A bird shat on me. In my hair.

I feel this day is going to suck.
Though my birthday was a few weeks ago, I decided to celebrate it yesterday for various logistical reasons (like, I didn´t want it to crash with [livejournal.com profile] aj_stalin´s mom´s birthday and I was in Amsterdam and so forth...). I decided to host a cocktail party mostly because I wanted to see all my friends dressed up in pretty dresses and suits and drink good drinks rather than beer. As it turns out, all my friends consider the liquor of all times to be rum. 6 of the guests brought their own bottle of it, and hardly anyone brought anything else (um, or I think there was some gin and whisky around, but compared to the amount of rum consumed it was nothing). Almost everyone showed up in short, gorgeous dresses or suits (and the ones who didn´t at least wore ties, so I´m not complaining) and best of all: though the setting was a cocktail party, the atmosphere was neither stuck up nor boring. And so many people showed up that I at one point actually had to leave my own party to get some fresh air because there were just too many people in our rather smallish apartment. People sang birthday songs for me 5 times and I got a lot of nice pressies.

All in all, a very good birthday party.

(Today I´m hiding out at the boyfriend´s because the apartment is completely trashed and I´m too hung over to do anything about it. My patient and nice flatmate [livejournal.com profile] 45hasle will probably forgive me)
( May. 10th, 2008 10:16 am)
Yes, well, good morning to you all.

I learned something about myself at the bottom of a bottle of gin that I think I would have been happier not to know: I am fairly responsible. Our bags were packed, we had actually gone out the door all the way down to Oslo central station, but when the station was closed (as well as all the bars in the city center) I realized that I didn't feel like I could leave the country on a drunken whim in the middle of my exams.

I'm not sure I like this part of me.
.

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