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Feb. 20th, 2009 01:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
squeefulfishGods, was I that obnoxious when drunk when I was 18? Alright, I still am, but at least it takes more than 2 pints to get me in that state. Usually.
Interesting evening from a sociological perspective. It has been some time since I've been out drinking, and even longer since it was with people who can't be elected to public office. Or can vote, in some cases. Can't believe I had to cajole people into helping with Martha's 18 kisses though. The girl is hawt.
Dinner was delish and I shudder to think what the bill was. (Harry's in Mell if you're ever passing through Drawwda.) My chicken fillet burger was just the right amount of filling and juicy and crispy and
generally nommy. 22 of us in total between family and her friends and a fair few jars were had. Then most of us went off to Sarches (or however I should spell that, the place is called Sarsfield's, but it's never known as that. In the same way that McPhail's has "Peter Matthew" on the sign.) I'd a bit of a dicky tummy from lunch that got progressively worse so left for home before the young uns tried their luck at getting past bouncers in Fusion. Eva and Mark are under orders to decant Martha into a taxi later on, but I think it's more likely that it'll actually be the other way around. Ridiculously sensible is our Marfa. There were some signs of wear on some of the lads by 11, but that's part and parcel of 18ths, apparently. I don't remember my own. I think I went to the cinema.
I found a dress in the wardrobe of clutter that I bought more than two years ago and had forgotten about. Black with sparkly bits down the very deep V-neck. Bit clingy, especially with the dicky tummy inflating me to Stay Puft Marshmallow Man size and more compliments than I really deserved.
And now I'm curled up in bed. The nieces are sleeping over tonight and Niamh is still up watching Stardust. Emma's conked out on the sofa and every time we try to move her she refuses to go to bed until NiNi goes
too. And that's what I did today.
Interesting evening from a sociological perspective. It has been some time since I've been out drinking, and even longer since it was with people who can't be elected to public office. Or can vote, in some cases. Can't believe I had to cajole people into helping with Martha's 18 kisses though. The girl is hawt.
Dinner was delish and I shudder to think what the bill was. (Harry's in Mell if you're ever passing through Drawwda.) My chicken fillet burger was just the right amount of filling and juicy and crispy and
generally nommy. 22 of us in total between family and her friends and a fair few jars were had. Then most of us went off to Sarches (or however I should spell that, the place is called Sarsfield's, but it's never known as that. In the same way that McPhail's has "Peter Matthew" on the sign.) I'd a bit of a dicky tummy from lunch that got progressively worse so left for home before the young uns tried their luck at getting past bouncers in Fusion. Eva and Mark are under orders to decant Martha into a taxi later on, but I think it's more likely that it'll actually be the other way around. Ridiculously sensible is our Marfa. There were some signs of wear on some of the lads by 11, but that's part and parcel of 18ths, apparently. I don't remember my own. I think I went to the cinema.
I found a dress in the wardrobe of clutter that I bought more than two years ago and had forgotten about. Black with sparkly bits down the very deep V-neck. Bit clingy, especially with the dicky tummy inflating me to Stay Puft Marshmallow Man size and more compliments than I really deserved.
And now I'm curled up in bed. The nieces are sleeping over tonight and Niamh is still up watching Stardust. Emma's conked out on the sofa and every time we try to move her she refuses to go to bed until NiNi goes
too. And that's what I did today.
