So I just had a
great weekend with the girls.
How annoying is that? It's like someone saying how cute their baby is and that it threw its bowl of pukey food all over the kitchen and then threw up all over their new silk blouse but it doesn't matter because they just have the cutest baby alive and expecting you to care kind of annoying.
Or when a friend tells you how amazing their boyfriend is and that he bought them a luxury holiday to the Caribbean for their birthday and that they're so in love, especially when you've been single for ages and every man is a jerk to you and you've never even been to the Caribbean and especially now since the weather in England is freezing your face off cold you would totally love to go somewhere warm. But maybe not have to get in a bikini because you just ate your whole advent calendar in one go . . . . .hmmm alright. Maybe that's a rant for another day. Whatevs.
BTW if you don't want to hear all about my great weekend then move along friend cos this sure ain't the place for you right now. Cos it was great.
But back to me and my amazing life though, it was one of those where you just LOL all weekend long.
Apart from Saturday morning when I woke up with one hell of a hangover from a crazy bday bash the night before and not much recollection of it. I woke up to be told of the mass embarrassment I caused when I told everyone I passed on the street that I was 'too nice for you'. Why? I hear you ask, would you say that?
Because I'm too nice obviously. Fool.
But I didn't stop there. I also shouted at all the street signs we passed too. And all of this was before I also went on to spew a little. Yikes. Has anyone called The Priory for me yet?
But aside from that it was all fi . . . . . ohhhh wait and I called my Doctor's surgery. Let's hope that the worst I left on their voicemail was that I am 'too nice for you'.
Ok so that was the extent of the damage......... ahhhhh. Except that I also dialled my local taxi service (currently about 80miles away from where I was this weekend) and must have asked for a taxi to pick me up... and take me where? I couldn't say. All I know is that I got a missed call from said taxi driver telling me he was in my drive waiting to pick me up.
Umm.... I actually don't have a drive so I have NO idea where I sent him. Lucky guy.
So minus all of my mishaps, I did actually LOL greatly at the taxi incident, I think I was still drunk though as I was quite hysterical about it, almost turning things from LOL to ROFL, the night was fab!
However my problems really began when trying to get 5 other hungover gals to get sorted so we can escape to get some hangover food. None were proving very co-operative and things turned quite hostile.
So about 4 hours later we finally left in search of something greasy, carbalicious and filling to sort ourselves out. My gag reflex wasn't happy with me and was clearly trying to re-enact moments of last night but I fought it.
Off to the pubby restaurant we went. Bounding in with major excitement at the prospect of food, well, obviously there was no literal bounding that adjective was just to add a little funk to proceedings. So anyway, we sit down and positively WOLF down the bread basket and swig it back with a shot of water.
Here is where things started to go wrong. Our water glasses were shot glasses. Who shots water? Do they not know we are a group of 6 hungover gals craving junk and water? Clearly the greasy hair, no makeup, slightly bleary eyes and mismatched clothes should have given us away upon arrival?
Anyway. Moving past the water shot issue I set my sights on the menu. A big burger and chips would sort me right out. Let's have a little look at said menu together shall we. . . . . .
Nothing you would eat on there either? Yeah I didn't think so.
A hangover menu full of boar, venison. rabbit, sardines and apple and hazelnut salad. Stupid pretentious English menu being all stupid and pretentious. Jerk.
And if any of you are thinking, well maybe that pappardelle pasta and huntsman sauce sounds palateable you would be totes wrong. Huntsman sauce I thought would be a kind of ham and cheese sauciness. Nope. It's a hare ragu. Hare. Like HARE.
Like a hare.
So what about that maiale tonnato and chips we ask the waitress.
So she was all... well that's
pork with a tuna crust of course.
Huh?
Pork with a tuna crust she says again with her confident smile.
HOLD UP! You mean pork with a tu . . . . I'm not even gonna repeat it. My gag reflex is already weak.
Well, let's play it safe I tell myself. I'll have the ham and pea soup. Surley that will be all soupy and warm and comforting.
Totes wrong yet again. Along comes a chunky sinewy ham with hard school type peas in a watery tasteless broth. If you google ham and pea broth you will see something that is in no way similar to what I consumed. You will be lucky to see such quality slop served up by google compared to the shite I endured.
Washed down with a whole shot of water. Badass.
Well, the day did pick up from there you will be glad to hear. Apart from the whole having to tidy up the house from the night before and putting my finger into the plate which served the sausages and had some morning after hardened sausage fat topped with cigarettes which got lodged under my nails, things went well.
A few of the girls suffered a bit of hangover hostility so the atmosphere was on rocky ground for a little while and a major clean up was almost needed in aisle 7 of Tescos.
But once the indian and pizzas were served and the X factor final was witnessed, a mass Michael Buble singalong was sung, a faceplant into the left over curry was almost received when the receivee got a little wayward with the dancing we were all getting along fantastically and many a LOL was had by all.
We even LOLed when one member, to be left un-named to spare from real public embarrassment, this blog does have 12 followers don't you know, had cried whilst watching Peter Andre being interviewed by Piers Morgan. This caused a real stir amongst us and resulted in the rewinding of said interview not just once but a further 3 times which caused the cryee to cry 4 times. Awkward! For her obviously, it was pretty F-ing funny for the rest of us.
And for those of you worried, both her and Peter Andre are doing well. And out of rehab.
Peter I mean, not her.
But enough about me. How was your weekend? Full of LOLs and ROFLs too?
Word to your mutha. Peace out
