But how wrong was I proven, cheri!
Thursday evening. Finished essay. Cooked (joke) and watched brothers and sisters. Realizing it was still 930pm, I thought fuck it I'll act like I'm all cool and call up Artin.
Profile: Artin
My Albanian friend. He is clearly of the Mediterranean temperament. We hover around the same frequencies.
"Artin let's go for a drink" Okay, I was ready in five minutes Artin comes in my room sees the half-full bottle of vodka says we ought to stay in I say yea sure (seeing as the weather outside is crap and I cannot be bothered to wear anything else besides my pyjama bottoms and hoodie)
Down goes the vodka, masterfully blended with MANGO PAPAYA AND ORANGE juice, and up go the spirits as well as the energy. I'm jumping up and down to Kings of Leon and Artin's smoking like mad as usual. I will admit that I did have a smoke that night as my left (usually swollen) tonsil was sedated by the alcohol.
Vodka over, I decide to make the statement that I had champagne. Hooray! A glamorous addition to our evening. Artin and I are a kind of sorry pair in discussion lately, but the champagne (generously poured by Artin in my massive, PLASTIC, wine glasses) helped to make our banter stupid and light hearted.
Then 7 ensued; of course I almost fell asleep while a corpse came to life. Or something like that.
Friday evening. Gosh I don't even remember. Had a crisis. Seriously, called my mum and went ballistic but then walked to Sainsbury's and bought 10 pounds worth of chocolate. If you see me in a couple of weeks and I look infinitely fatter, well, that's why. And if I am fatter, then you better not mention it, idiot!
Saturday evening was just hilarious. Armagedapocalypse 2: The explosioning was fantastic and very explosive. My eyes hurt by the end of it and my respiratory tract was definitely permanently damaged but who cares I laughed so hard at Dr. Apocalypse and his "LAAAAAng" noise that no amount of pyrotechnics would make me hate that show. Then I make my way to St. Edmund's college where my cousin lives and he was having a house party which I hadn't realized was a house party until I got there. Clearly, people in mature colleges have way more fun. Damn you Trinity! The taxi driver was a bit of a weirdo, I mean okay he parked the car, got down, opened the door for me and held out his hand. I gave him money. He said no and gestured emphatically that he wanted my hand. MY HAND??? What the heck I asked for a cab driver not a fucking chauffer anyway it was all a bit creepy but then I rushed to Afxentis' house almost fell on my back because of the stupidly little amounts of snow/ice that Cambridge is so talented in gracing us with. Pleasant surprise the party. Artin joined us with two of his friends who swiftly departed unfortunately. In between beer pong and some very sly compliments, I succeeded in having 5 vodka cranberry drinks in the least chic way ever: little plastic white cups. Yay. We're back in nursery school. But I shouldn't be mocking because a. Afxentis' kitchen is always so grit I never want to touch any of his crockery anyway b. I got so drunk that I could barely see in front of me as Artin and I were leaving. Artin was drunk too. Perfect combination. Let's just say that our return to Burrell's can be described in one word: AGAPI! AGAPI how drunk I am AGAPI! AGAPI we had a good time AGAPI! AGAPI I want to pee really badly AGAPI! etc etc.
Thank God I got home safely. It was what happened apres that was the worst part. Miscalculating the effect it would have on me, I thought it was clever for me to have a KIT KAT! in my extremely drunken state. I also attempted to watch an episode of Friends. What on earth was I thinking. The next hour found me desperately sprawling on my bathroom floor trying to be sick. Ah, the glam. Not really. I fell asleep on my side, half-propped up by the mound of pillows on my bed, with the curtains open. Goodmorning sunshine. Bleh.
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