Så jeg drog til fest lørdag med alle intentioner om at skulle tidligt hjem, hvad jeg også havde lovet mine forældre der var hyret som chauffører.
Well...
Well...
Linda skrev for del år siden et par notes-to-self, som bl.a. omfattede følgende:
* Skal have investeret i diktafon. Alt, hvad jeg føler akut behov for at sige, indtales på denne. Hvis det stadig er en god idé dagen efter, er der grønt lys.
* Skal have investeret i lommeudgave af elektronisk væg-øre. Tjekkes en gang i timen, og når det lyser rødt, så fletter jeg næbbet eller går hjem.
Det siger sig selv at ingen af delene rigtig blev efterlevet, men jeg magtede dog lige akkurat at undlade at sende fulde-sms'er.
Først drak jeg en flaske vin + lidt til, senere var der en i selskabet der begav sig ud i at lave mojitos (aftenens citat: "jeg kan godt have en til. Ja, allerede"). Så blev jeg grebet af en overbevisning om, at jeg både var underholdende og uimodståelig. Vil heller ikke udelukke at jeg på et tidspunkt også troede at jeg så godt ud og kunne synge; gu'sketakoglov var det ikke rigtig et selskab der sådan lagde op til fællessang.
Til min store fryd bestod selskabet nemlig af en 15-17 mænd (primært gamle skolekammerater), en underholdende pige, og så mig. Det var ikke ringe endda. Jeg kunne med fødderne på sikker grund glippe forførende med de i dagens anledning mascara-inficerede øjenvipper uden at risikere at nogen tog mig på ordet (eller hvad værre er - på låret). Det passer mig så glimrende; jeg vil jo gerne kaste varme blikke henover bordet men er faktisk ikke leveringsdygtig interesseret i mere end dét.
Således havde jeg følgende uhyre åndrige ordveksling med en af de få festdeltagere, jeg ikke kendte fra før:
"Sig mig, du lægger jo an på mig?!!"
"Ja!" (han får 10 point for ligefremhed)
...
"Nå. Men det kommer altså ikke til at virke"
Mindes vagt, at da han tog hjem, gav jeg ham et smækkys og sagde "men godt forsøgt ellers".
Er nogen søde at slå mig med en skovl??
Anyways. På et tidspunkt begyndte solen at belave sig på at stå op, og på vej hjem i bilen (min mors ord da jeg satte mig ind: "hold kæft hvor du stinker") gik jeg i panik de første tyve gange over hvor utrolig få timer der var til jeg skulle op og ud og være præsentabel. Verdens største omgang tømmermænd lå utvivlsomt i vente ved søndagens barselsvisit, og man vil jo nødig skade det yndige barn ved at dunste alkoholtåger ned i hovedet på det.
...
Og så vågnede jeg 4 minutter i 9. Helt af mig selv. Helt vågen. Helt u-svimmel. Helt sikkert ude af stand til at køre bil, men det skulle jeg heldigvis heller ikke.
Om jeg begriber det - mig, den største svagdrikker af alle. Barselsvisit blev gennemført i fin stil, efterfulgt af en times togrejse i vågen tilstand, efterfulgt af besøg hos veninde hvor jeg også holdt mig vågen uden de store problemer, helt til jeg blev lagt i seng klokken 22.
10 mod 1 på at næste gang jeg overmodigt drikker ét glas vin, går jeg i dørken med et brag.
PS - bør jeg sige undskyld til ham fyren? Eller tror I han har fortrængt det?
blurry selfie
It was supposed to be a fun but early night - I had a commitment mid-morning Sunday to go and visit a friend who had a baby a few months ago. It had been postponed a couple of times already so cancelling was not an option. Ergo, I told my mum and dad - who had kindly offered to come and pick me up after the party - to expect a call around maybe 1.30AM.
Yeah, right.
First, I downed a bottle of wine at dinner. Then someone started making mojitos and, I mean, those things are basically SO healthy for you - there's mint and lime and all sorts of good things in them - so I was the lady who kept saying "I could do with one more. Yes, already", and inevitably I very soon became convinced that not only was I irresistible; I was also incredibly funny and entertaining.
Yeah, right.
It is also possible that at one point, I actually thought I could sing. Fortunately, it wasn't a sing-along sort of party: It was me, one other girl, and 15-17 men (most of whom I went to university with). Not much singing at that kind of party. Thank goodness for small blessings.
So mostly I just talked and talked and talkedandtalked (- apologies to my surroundings), tried to dictate the play list (apologies again), and batted my eyelashes at whoever happened to be sitting across the table from me because trust me, these guys are fairly safe to bat eyelashes at.
There was only a couple of people that I didn't already know. One of them did seem to want to get to know me a little better, so we had the following exchange (apologies, again...):
Me: "You're hitting on me, aren't you?!!"
Him: "Yes!" (I have to give him points for the straight answer)
Me: ".... Well. It's not going to work."
What a subtle way of getting the "sorry, not interested" message across.
When he left the party, I gave him a quick smack of a kiss and said, "but nice try".
Someone hit me with a shovel, please?
...at one point it was getting dangerously close to sunrise, so I reluctantly went home (my mom's words as I got into the car: "gosh, you reek"). Almost had a panic attack when I realised that in less than 5 hours I had to get up, go out, and be presentable. Went to bed convinced that the mother of all hangovers awaited me.
-And woke up, by myself, at 4 minutes to 9. Completely nausea-free, able to walk in a straight line, and not even particularly tired. What gives??? So I went and admired the baby, then went to another friend's house and didn't even have any particular problems staying awake until bed time. I think maybe all the cells in my body may have re-generated in just a couple of hours. It's the only logical explanation I can think of.
And I'm sure that the next time I take so much as a sip of wine, it will hit me like a ton of bricks.
PS - do you think I should apologise to the guy, or can we safely assume he has
