Things really have to improve and quick.Take last night. After a whole day pinned to my chair by a hot, sick child, I got drunk very fast and very early on red wine (never my drink of predilection), then lay outside in the rain on a green plastic bench under an ancient smelly Barbour jacket to hide from the hideous cacophony of Squarepusher ("a swarm of angry bees throwing saucepans down a lift shaft", thank you Fourstar). I followed that up with a spell of lying curled foetally round the dog watching Grand Designs and worked up to a crescendo of Friday night crapness by falling asleep halfway through House and having the dénouement explained as follows:
"C'était bien les médicaments, mais il avait comme une boule de nourriture dans l'estomac qui lachait les pillules au fur et à mesure".
What? A ball of food in his stomach that released pills gradually? Bleugh. I hoped fervently I was still drunk. I could totally have nightmares about that.
Anyway, I have decided that I shouldn't get that pathetic again. I have Plans. Oh, yes. I am taking my destiny in hand and changing my life.
Tonight I will drink vodka instead.
AND I have a face mask.
Yes! I am rising, triumphant, like a phoenix, from the ashes of Friday night. AND Fingers is busily giving me lovebites as I type. He's getting it a bit wrong though.
E: Are you biting me, Fingers?
E: AAAAAH! It hurts.
F: Bon, là je ne fais que sucer. (ok, now I'm just sucking)
E: [writhing] Now it tickles!
F: Oh, j'ai beaucoup bavé là (I've dribbled a lot there)
[Lashes starts giving me a Chinese burn on the other arm]
E: Ok, maman needs to go and get a drink. Now.
I am sure you will agree that I have the (imminently) single girl weekend totally nailed.
(This is my roundabout way of saying that if you all have to invite me to all your social occasions from now on, or face a string of posts of increasingly bleak insanity, culminating in a post consisting of a row of random characters as I lay my face on the keyboard and die of social shame. Don't say I didn't warn you)