Was that a weekend that just happened?

I seriously don’t know what happened over the last 2 days that should have signalled the weekend.  I woke up 9.30am yesterday and I don’t remember where the time went after that.  No, I wasn’t drinking (at that point anyway).

Yesterday was dedicated to my best friend SMS as she turned 25 on Wednesday (YIKES! Only 11 days until I join the Quarter of a Century club too!) so she had a day full of surprises. Chocolate cake and cream for breakfast, a manicure, lunch in a posh hotel overlooking the Bay and finally a fish spa! You know, where you dangle your feet into a tank and the mini Piranhas (minus the teeth) eat your feet? Yep those; lovely image hey? After that it was a hop, skip and a jump home before going out on the town for some drinks with my Australian cousin who I was only just meeting for the first time. We were home by 11.30 but in 3 hours I’d had over 12 shots of spirits, and I was the most sober! However, it wasn’t a totally awesome night for the following reasons:

The Dad Brigade
Men aged 40+ who have clearly been drinking too much and for too long who get a bit ‘grabby grabby’ when you happen to walk their way. They can’t dance to save their life because a) they’re dads and b) they’re hammered and when they open their mouths to speak, it’s usually just spit not words that fall out of them.

They come in both male-dickus and female-whoreus varieties and can be seen in the dark. Male-dickus can usually be spotted by looking for muscles protruding from a tight t-shirt and their gleaming (fake) white smiles but if in doubt, hitch up your skirt and they’ll come running. Female-whoreus are usually heard before spotted but if you follow the smell of hairspray, the draft of wind from their huge fake eyelashes and the trail of orange that’s rubbed off, you’ll get to them.

Yes. You’re having fun at the bar enjoying yourself when you spot your ex’s friend and scream ‘hi’ before you turn another 10 degrees to your right to see The Ex. Cue awkward silence and a severe tumbleweed moment. You can’t win. If you’re the dumpee you’re probably going to either cry or feel like punching someone (depending on how it ended) or, if you’re the dumper (as I was – this was the 4.5 year relationship I left before Mr Officer) then you’re going to see a face that still shows a broken heart as your body aches with guilt. Exit stage right.

How about you? What can turn your great night out into an early bed time?

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