Thursday, 6 March 2014

Vodka and Pickled Onion Party

I want to blog about last weekend so I never forget it, because if I forget it then there's a chance I will repeat the same mistake again.

Jen and Claire- AKA my fellow Wedding Ruiners- asked me if I wanted to go to their Vodka and Pickled Onion Party on Saturday night. There would be vodka, pickled onions and just three guests. Fancy dress would be mandatory.

Claire needed a night in after losing her purse, iPhone and sleepover bag full of make-up on three consecutive drunken nights out. The idea was we would probably yell and drink a lot, then go to bed without losing anything and without having spent an excessive proportion of our rent money on drink and taxis.

Unfortunately, I was supposed to be babysitting for a family and as it would be the first time I'd ever babysat for them (and I'm hoping I can start working for them once a week and quit my pub job), I didn't want to let them down.

Then.

On Saturday morning the mum called me to say they weren't going out anymore because they are getting a divorce....

Sad for them.

Fun for me!

I have not been so excited for anything in literally weeks. Maybe it's because I don't go out anymore, but I just had a feeling it was going to be LOTS OF LAFFS and more, much more. It was the 'more' that was the problem, to be honest. The word 'more' has lost all meaning.

Straight away it was onto the face paint. As always I made a massive fat mess of trying to paint my own face (it can all be traced back to when we were at uni and I went out dressed as a burglar and painted a black mask over my eyes... I wish everybody would let me forget it but they will NEVER forget it) and had to wipe it all off. My 'abstract expression' squiggly lines and blobs all over my face looked bad, too bad even for a make-believe party of three, so I washed it off and just went for a white Geisha face.

My costume was Many Countries- my Japanese kimono, a Chinese dress, a sombrero and a Russian hat. Claire and Jen went for Many Sequins/Mexican Skeletons. As we got ready we nattered about all our fictional guests that would soon be arriving, in the way only ex-Drama  students or people with severe personality disorders can. Then we had an estatic moment when we realised there were no other guests coming and we could do what we wanted!!!

We wanted to do lifts, lots of lifts. Claire managed to do a no-hander while I was lifting her in the air with my feet and afterwards there was a lot of high-five-ing and calling each other LADS.

So, there was a LOT of lifting... I remember there was a brief kick about with a ball we found, which led to another five or ten minutes of calling each other LADs and high-five-ing... Then we built a den in the living room but none of us wanted to get in it because we were too hot.

We danced to Ursula from The Little Mermaid singing 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' approximately six times throughout the evening, our voluptuous octopus dancing getting more and more convincing each time. Another song we kept going back to was Tina Turner 'What's Love Got to Do With It.'

"WHO needs a HEART when a HEART can be BRO-KEN?????"

We clearly don't know how to behave in public anymore, so the only way we can enjoy ourselves in the privacy of our own homes and company. I thought we would be safe indoors, but somehow or other me and Claire ended up walking to the cash machine. Claire says she doesn't remember going but I do, because two guys in the queue behind us kept making jokes about our face paint and I got really annoyed because I'd forgotten we had any on. I just thought they were being weird when I suppose we were the ones stood in the street wearing pyjama bottoms and sombreros, faces smeared with white paint, eyes darting around like angry flies.

The night continued. We all ended up in the den. The next day I woke up and my left knee was all black and lumpy from when we were doing 'slides' across the living room floor. Unbelievably, I had to take my bashed-up brain and body all the way Posh Clare's a for a roast dinner because, guess what.

Amy is moving to Australia for a year.

I'll tell you more about it before she leaves, but for now it doesn't seem as if she's really going. I don't want to talk about it too much. She'd come to London, kind of as a goodbye, which is why I managed to heave myself out of bed so early and travel across London on replacement buses, back to my flat for Some Reason. I woke up on my couch around 1pm, my arms painted black and white to look like a skeleton.

I got a text from Claire.

"Why did you leave?"

From there was a lot of messages going back and forth, trying to decipher what exactly happened at the Vodka and Pickled Onion Party. Claire wanted to know why she had bruises on her chin- me and Jen reminded her it was because she banged it on the floor several times while she was doing the worm.

I myself have grazed both my elbows and seem to have misplaced quite a bit of skin from the top of foot, which is interesting, if not minging. My arms were hurting from all the lifts I'd been doing. Claire says she has a burn on her hip. I'm not sure about Jen but I remember her doing a lot of handstands, she must have sustained some pretty bad injuries.

Recently I have been very upset over all those NekNominate things in the news- young people dying for No Reason, this horrible culture of drinking to excess and ingesting as many toxic substances as you think your body can handle, just for the sake of it. I think it's a sign that the end of civilization is nigh, seriously.

Saying that.

I've since been informed of exactly how much disgusting-ness was consumed at the Vodka and Pickled Onion Party and I can't believe it. I thought my Dickhead Days were well and truly behind me, but Saturday just proved that there is always a Dickhead stirring inside me (how smutty) and all it needs is a little bit of help (vodka) and encouragement (Dolly Parton) to leap out of my mouth and start bouncing off the walls, screaming song lyrics and laughing at its own jokes.

Awful.

Clare's roast dinner was lovely, but there were a few too many people there for me to interact successfully with. I mostly sat in the corner, shoveling roast potatoes into my mouth with shaking hands. Glasgow Laura came as well, she's living in London but is really busy doing her social work training, working with people who live in unsanitary conditions and have mental health problems that make them hoard things, sometimes problematic things... It all makes me feel very selfish and greedy. (And also makes me want to Google 'hoarders'.)

After the roast, I went home and my cousin Chloe moved in. She had a bindhi on her head, a sleeping bag and not much else. She's just come back from India, where she did a yoga course. I was slightly concerned that she wouldn't be able to pay the rent, but I was still excited for her to move in.

Then last night she told me that there is no way she is going to be able to pay the rent, so she's moving out.

I understand.

But.

I was all on edge today, not knowing if I should look for somewhere else or try and get someone else in. I put the room up on spareroom.com and a girl messaged me almost straight away. She came round to look at the flat (I told her about the damp because I felt bad) and said she'd have to think about it. Then an hour later she said she wanted to move in. It all seems very easy, but suspiciously so...

I guess I have only seen her once, for ten minutes, but she seemed nice and it would be a lot of hassle for me to move.

I was looking at signing up for a guardian scheme (where you pay very little rent to live in buildings that would otherwise be squatted) or finding a house to lodge in, but in the end I think I moved around a lot when I first arrived in London and it might be better to just stay still for a while.

Hmm.

I hate making decisions.

I wish Clo could stay, but she just isn't sure if she wants to commit to paying such a high rent every month. This morning I was running really late for work, so I woke Chloe up and asked her to make me breakfast while I was in the shower and she did! She even made my lunch for me. Who else would do that for me?

Oh and guess what.

On Sunday night Claire called me, she'd lost her purse.

Seriously.

She found it hidden under some loo roll on Monday night, so we didn't learn our lesson which means Vodka and Pickled Onion Party could happen again. There is a Balkan Beats night I think we would have LOTS OF LAFFS at but Saturday night just served to highlight the sad fact that we should be banished indoors, for life or at least until we stop drinking and building dens stops being fun.

On a lighter note, on Saturday night me and Jen had to pull Claire away from a clothes maiden she was fighting in the kitchen. The next day Claire realised she had sent a photo round of the 'defeated' clothes maiden lying on the kitchen floor, to a couple of people she perhaps shouldn't have been sending nonsensical messages to...

LAD.




4 comments:

  1. Hahaha, love your take on the divorce, silver linings...

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    1. Aw not for the family, I feel bad now! It did mean fun for me though...

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  2. Finally finished reading your whole blog! You're an amazing writer, many of your posts had me burst out laughing. Gotta say I really, really miss your Paris adventures, however! Hope all is good for you in London, I'll keep checking for updates periodically. :)

    Cheers from Quebec, Canada!

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    1. Aw I love it when people read my blog from the beginning... it has gone proper shit since I left Paris though... Thanks for commenting from Canada!

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