Party time

I like going to parties. I'm still at the age where it's okay for parties to be where everyone brings a bottle (of vodka), inappropriate games are played and much hilarity ensues. None of that dinner party cocktail nonsense and chitchat about politics and childcare.
Oh, no, it's all kicks and giggles (err, is that a real thing?).

So I had a party this weekend (hence the general lack of posting). It was going to be a big booze extravaganza with a lot of my gay friends. But due to a number of quite frankly pathetic excuses, ranging from I'm in Thailand, I'm in South Africa for a business thing (no really), I'm shooting in North Yorkshire (film, not animals.Unless I've really misunderstood what The F Word is about), this is the only weekend I can go house(read homo)hunting in London, I am too much of a lesbian to drive from Bournemouth to see you even though you came to my party which is exactly the same distance away, I have a horse, I am Welsh and poor and I forgot to ask you. Sorry Anna. Just got confused there, I wasn't deliberately excluding you.

I should point out that these excuses were all from different people.

But we still ended up hosting a party with five people staying over. In my one bedroom flat which has a double bed and a double futon. Yes, I'm still young enough for that kind of close proximity too (plus me and other half obviously got the bed:-) although no-one had much choice as he went to bed drunkenly two hours before everyone else).

It all went down pretty well. I made a huge curry the day before (we spent two days eating it and I still froze enough for about four more helpings), and bought a selection of extremely unhealthy and quite unhealthy snacks. The seven of us (yes my maths is right) proceeded to drink copiously, forgot about dinner until about 3am, went to the town's bitchin' nightclub (full of jockeys and small people) for about two hours. Then, when we returned and started continuing to drink but in our pyjamas, the other party contingent (American servicemen from the nearby USAF base) appeared. They were very pleased about the ladies in pyjamas situation. Ever played the drinking game Kings? Well, if you value your braincells, don't .

After a couple more hours of this, lots more alcohol, and a mixture of yawns from the ladies and unsubtle attempts to look up pyjamas from the Yankees, I decided to evict the non-stayers, one of whom had apparently thrown up several times elsewhere and I was not keen on any of that in my flat. Strangely, I got a knock on the bedroom door about half an hour later. Two of them had returned, hopeful, I suspect, of getting some. They claimed they had nowhere to stay and wanted to beg floor space. I politely (well, not really) declined as well as one can at 5.30am when wearing nothing apart from knickers and a dressing gown.

The morning after was great. My guests insisted on cooking breakfast, making tea and tidying up. And from the weekend's events I have acquired: one 3/4 full bottle of Vodka; one full bottle of Archers peach schnapps; four bottles of Smirnoff Ice; a 1/4 full bottle of gin; two bottles of white wine; a bottle of undrinkable orange alcopops and a book of muffin recipes (this was more in the line of a house-warming gift). Other half said he once had a party where he had 24 burgers and 16 sausages left. He ate them in two days (it was a uni thing and he had to move out by the end of the week).

Perhaps more entertainingly, when I went to a party and stayed at my best friend's house last November, I left behind a penguin (cuddly rather than real).

More on that story later.

Oh yeah. I forgot to post my weight loss situation the other day but don't worry, it was good news. I lost another two pounds, meaning I've now lost half a stone. Yay!