So I am currently sitting in school, hungover to the teeth, wishing that I had skived my one measly lesson.
So this weekend was possibly the highlight of my life (which isnt that amazing considering the lack of life that I have). The rugby sevens in hong kong is considered the highlight of the sports calander. Not being particularly into sports, I was glad, as always, to find fellow alcoholics who consider it the highlight of the drinking calendar, respectively.
The fun and games start on friday, where it poured with rain which is usually not such a good sign. Spent the day at school with FAB designing our witty home made t-shirts proclaiming that we were 'breast friends'. We left them in the art room and probably gave some year sevens brain aneurysms (which I feel like I have right now). We then proceeded to bail on last period in order to get good and ready for the intolerable amount of alcohol which was to soon line our stomachs. We met in Central, me being a little late due to the pouring down of a torrential rainstorm - did not deter me in the slightest, but made it quite hard to walk downhill. We then proceeded to epically fail on our journey. Starting with our MTR ticket failure (we were both meant to use he same ticket to cross the barrier, unfortunately, FAB being the genius she is, forgot this fact and proceeded without me, leaving me stranded.) and I had to jump over the turnstile, proceeding to drop the contents of my bag onto the grimy, chewing gum ridden floor. As if people weren't looking at us enough, FAB then managed to drop her chewing gum out of her mouth mid-sentence. I then realised I had left my ticket at home, so FAB had to give me her cherished spare, which she was going to sell for lots of $$. Thanks FAB, sorry I'm so mentally ungifted. We then dashed to the lovely bathrooms in lane crawford, paint dripping off our homemade tshirts and onto our already wet handbags, and started to smear red paint on our tshirts. This sounds smarter than it was as we then realised it was quite difficult to wipe off, and we ended up with red hands like we had some kind of rare skin disease. This all happened while a group of immaculately dressed young ladies with chinese dresses looked on at us in disgust while they fixed their makeup. We took solace in the fact that they would no longer look so clean when they went into the downpour outside.
Off we traipsed to the stadium, me having lost my cigarrettes for the second time that day, and picked up a couple of beers and free inflatable things. Got to the stadium only to find that they were apparently not allowed in(our inflatables, not the beer, strangely enough) and had them put into a formidable looking bin. We met up with a bunch of keen early arrivals and proceeded to drink ourselves abso fucking lutely stupid. Didn't actually manage to watch any rugby, but came out of the stadium looking like a depleted crayon with paint running down in rivulets all over my face/bag/clothes. Headed home to get ready for the afterparty, armed with a legion of pot noodles (which I neever managed to properly consume without spilling all over the floor) and was soon informed by box box that she was crashing the one man party at my house. Got ready real quick in a dress that no longer fits me properly due to an inordinate amoutn of growth in my breasts (read: I had the chest of a twelve year old boy before, it has now evolved to that of a twelve year old girls, which makes it difficult to wear any of my old clothing). With my dress busting (literally) at the seams, I headed to Wanchai avec Box box to find RWP, who was admiring C's bartending skills (not) at Maya. Bored with Wanchai, we headed back to invade the after party, where we found that the queue was longer than one of my blog posts. In an attempt to kill some time we headed to Zinc to pole dance and grab attention(who doesnt like attention seeking?) with Jello S. Jello S had an inordinate amount of energy and was leaping and bounding everywhere with her usual abandon which is always amusing to watch (and join in with - of course). Boxbox soon got bored and went to the afterparty - skipping the queue and the paybooth, leaving jello S and to continue with our debauchery.
Saturday morning, was beginning to feel quite shitty due to shots/beer/pimms that I had consumed the night/day before. Drinking for more than two days can really take its toll on you, despite being a veteran drinker. AH FUCK THIS MY HEAD HURTS TOO MUCH WILL WRITE MORE LATER.
So this weekend was possibly the highlight of my life (which isnt that amazing considering the lack of life that I have). The rugby sevens in hong kong is considered the highlight of the sports calander. Not being particularly into sports, I was glad, as always, to find fellow alcoholics who consider it the highlight of the drinking calendar, respectively.
The fun and games start on friday, where it poured with rain which is usually not such a good sign. Spent the day at school with FAB designing our witty home made t-shirts proclaiming that we were 'breast friends'. We left them in the art room and probably gave some year sevens brain aneurysms (which I feel like I have right now). We then proceeded to bail on last period in order to get good and ready for the intolerable amount of alcohol which was to soon line our stomachs. We met in Central, me being a little late due to the pouring down of a torrential rainstorm - did not deter me in the slightest, but made it quite hard to walk downhill. We then proceeded to epically fail on our journey. Starting with our MTR ticket failure (we were both meant to use he same ticket to cross the barrier, unfortunately, FAB being the genius she is, forgot this fact and proceeded without me, leaving me stranded.) and I had to jump over the turnstile, proceeding to drop the contents of my bag onto the grimy, chewing gum ridden floor. As if people weren't looking at us enough, FAB then managed to drop her chewing gum out of her mouth mid-sentence. I then realised I had left my ticket at home, so FAB had to give me her cherished spare, which she was going to sell for lots of $$. Thanks FAB, sorry I'm so mentally ungifted. We then dashed to the lovely bathrooms in lane crawford, paint dripping off our homemade tshirts and onto our already wet handbags, and started to smear red paint on our tshirts. This sounds smarter than it was as we then realised it was quite difficult to wipe off, and we ended up with red hands like we had some kind of rare skin disease. This all happened while a group of immaculately dressed young ladies with chinese dresses looked on at us in disgust while they fixed their makeup. We took solace in the fact that they would no longer look so clean when they went into the downpour outside.
Off we traipsed to the stadium, me having lost my cigarrettes for the second time that day, and picked up a couple of beers and free inflatable things. Got to the stadium only to find that they were apparently not allowed in(our inflatables, not the beer, strangely enough) and had them put into a formidable looking bin. We met up with a bunch of keen early arrivals and proceeded to drink ourselves abso fucking lutely stupid. Didn't actually manage to watch any rugby, but came out of the stadium looking like a depleted crayon with paint running down in rivulets all over my face/bag/clothes. Headed home to get ready for the afterparty, armed with a legion of pot noodles (which I neever managed to properly consume without spilling all over the floor) and was soon informed by box box that she was crashing the one man party at my house. Got ready real quick in a dress that no longer fits me properly due to an inordinate amoutn of growth in my breasts (read: I had the chest of a twelve year old boy before, it has now evolved to that of a twelve year old girls, which makes it difficult to wear any of my old clothing). With my dress busting (literally) at the seams, I headed to Wanchai avec Box box to find RWP, who was admiring C's bartending skills (not) at Maya. Bored with Wanchai, we headed back to invade the after party, where we found that the queue was longer than one of my blog posts. In an attempt to kill some time we headed to Zinc to pole dance and grab attention(who doesnt like attention seeking?) with Jello S. Jello S had an inordinate amount of energy and was leaping and bounding everywhere with her usual abandon which is always amusing to watch (and join in with - of course). Boxbox soon got bored and went to the afterparty - skipping the queue and the paybooth, leaving jello S and to continue with our debauchery.
Saturday morning, was beginning to feel quite shitty due to shots/beer/pimms that I had consumed the night/day before. Drinking for more than two days can really take its toll on you, despite being a veteran drinker. AH FUCK THIS MY HEAD HURTS TOO MUCH WILL WRITE MORE LATER.
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