party

Probably the first party pic of me ever when I’m not the one holding the camera!



Why do they not arrest me? I know there are cameras all around this building. It’s the police headquarter for crying out loud! It’s staffed 24/7. Maybe drunk-walking with dog isn’t even a misdemeanor?

Even though I could hardly stand up, I knew Simon had to go to the bathroom now or we would not like each other in a few hours. So I did what I always do: I stumbled around in the police park with Simon. It’s almost 5am.

It’s amazing that the taxi driver could interpret my drunken slur and actually drive me home. The receipt said that the trip started at 4.31 and ended 4.48. I love the Stockholm cabs. They accept all credit cards and their receipts have so much information on it, it’s like a little novel.

I’m paying for this the day after though. The only time I stand upright is to walk Simon.

Today I’m thankful that Simon can accept a slow walk every now and then. There is so much to smell and so little time.

My tall statuesque friend was supposed to spend the day at my place, but she has been led between the bed and the bathroom all night by her boyfriend the Saint. She spends all of Saturday that way actually.

My short voluptuous friend on the other hand had not spent the night (or do you call it morning when it’s after 5am?) at home, so thankfully she was happy to come over and spend the day with me. Sleeping on the couch, but anyway.

The worst thing with alcohol is the side effects. For one your body doesn’t count it as sleep when you “pass out” in bed when you come home. And then there’s the anguish. You’ll bee seized with anxiety whether you have a reason for it or not. The best way to not get stuck in those horrid feelings is to spend the day after with good friends I’ve noticed. Or curled up in bed all day with a hunk – but that’s another story.

So the first time I wake up (when the alcohol is “slept off” maybe?) it’s almost eleven and my make-up is still perfect! On my way to wash it off I see my trail of clothes. If I didn’t know I came home alone I would have thought it had been a hot and steamy scenario here earlier. My clothes have been dropped piece by piece, leading a trail to the bedroom, starting with my shoes at the front door. For some reason I left my socks and my undies on. (strange choice)

One of the walks me and short voluptuous friend do with Simon is to the corner Thai restaurant for take out. Cheep and good! Unfortunately I can’t sit up long enough to eat more than two bites at a time. Dinner goes on for a while.

My man-friend comes over with a movie. He is shocked to see the state we are in.

So why are we doing this? On one of the blogs I always read, Diane is telling that she had a “corner turning moment” when it dawned on here that maybe there are better/other things than partying. It’s time for me to get to that corner: even if I have to crawl. Still on Monday I had eyes like a boxer and a severe hangover voice. Thank good for Clear-eyes and nice clothes! I hope I fooled my office at least. Don’t want them to find out about my secrete double life. Being a top executive during the day and a drunken party princess at night.

How did we get to this state?

Starting Friday night with tall statuesque friend and me as usual in my apartment with lots of vodka. For some reason we started discussing politics. We do not share the same views. I told here that I can not see myself getting involved with a guy who has another political view than me. This went on until 1am when we got a cab and went to the club. Short voluptuous friend showed up around 2.30 after drinks with her co-workers.

As the money-spending-junky I am: I kept ordering White-Russians for us until the bar ran out milk. Ohps! And I can tell you that we did not need quite as many White-Russians as we consumed.

I saw this guy. I liked him right away. Not sure why. He was not particularly good looking. He was far from fit. You could tell that he liked good food. And he had a beard sorta like Mr Solas (what ever the guy’s name in Desperate Housewives is) but it was blond. I would not be surprised if he likes Jazz. Had tall statuesque friend noticed that I was not standing next to her and seen me with this guy, she would have totally dragged me away from him. She only accepts guys who are handsome with wash-board stomachs and a cool clothing style (at least when we are at the clubs). Short voluptuous friend saw me though. She saw the big smile on my face and left me there.

The night went by so fast – it’s all a blur. The music was really good. People where happy. I ran in to a few guys I know (one of the “sailors” took the pic). I do remember that I asked the guy with the beard all sorts of things. Like what political side he was on. Not your average club chit-chat I guess.

Suddenly I realize that I have had way too much to drink. “I have to get a cab” I mumble and storm off. The guy who I’ve been talking to all evening follows me out. He gets me the cab of the particularly company that I prefer to ride with. He opens the door and lets me in. Then he closes the cab door. From the outside. He didn’t even ask for my number.

John? What happened here?