Okay, so that's a bit of a misleading title. It implies that I spent the night drinking vast quantities of alcohol and making a complete fool of myself; that I'm gradually recovering from the hangover and that, more worryingly, I'm piecing together the events of the Christmas Party, cringing at every recollection.
Unfortunately, none of those things is true, though I'm prepared to stand corrected if anyone at Tiger Tiger last night remembers seeing me there (not that they'd know who I was even if they were one of the handful of people not close to revealing to the rest of us what they'd eaten throughout the day) and thought I was making a fool of myself. I don't
think I was... but you can never be too sure.
I had a bottle and a half of Budweiser - pissy stuff when you've not had something already to kill all your tastebuds
[ooooooh... a pun! Three cheers for me!] - a mouthful of Corona - even pissier - a quarter of a glass of ultra-pissy red wine with the meal, and most of a double Vodka and Redbull before I started on the water, disillusioned with the taste of alcohol.
Nevertheless, I danced my buttocks off and found myself gaining something of an audience, the more audacious members of which approached me to compliment me on my "thang-shaking". Or whatever us guys are supposed to do. You know, it's been said to me on countless occasions that only gay guys can dance. It seems I continue to prove that theory wrong. Unless they mean "gay" in the sense of "happy" rather than homosexual. No, I don't think they mean "happy". I don't think the plucked eyebrows and bleached-blonde hair (thanks S) help my case though...
I've still not got a Christmas Tree. Tomorrow I shall be mostly driving around to every shop that looks like it might possibly have a tree - either for sale or being watched by sufficiently few, or inept, people that I can simply shove it in the boot and speed off with it, power cable from the lights trailing along the road behind me. I don't want a real one really - they get bits everywhere. And unlike the "with bits" tag that they give some types of orange juice these days, these are not the sort of bits you really want.
My fwogs had bad experiences: Kerminotter trailed in third in his race so I bought him a scooter to cheer him up a bit - I still can't afford the car hire; Runandhide (the younger one) had a pike incident and narrowly avoided being devoured. Bless him, he still managed a second spot in that race, and also the one this morning. I bought
him a home gym.
I still need to suss out the whole feeding thing, though - it seems like dumb luck at the moment. Hmmmm...
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