Shame of the Handbag

At least I have never ... been out a-boozing with my beloved urban family and got so unbelievably god awful drunk, that the last thing I actually remember is ranting to my friend and fit-friend-of-a-friend that the girl who they both fancied (and who had been present for most of the night but had thankfully left at that point ... I think) was a scheming slut and in Kat Slater style announced 'She'll break your bleedin' 'earts' (which for some reason has now endeared me to fit-friend-of-a-friend, who thinks I have 'great insight' ... the fool).

I then left the swanky bar propped up on either side by two buddies, quite frankly facked but giggling madly and still capable of walking ... not so when I hit the cold air outside. I then repeatedly fell down, whilst Zuzu was put in charge of my handbag, and we were then all bundled into a cab. I vaguely recall the taxi driver enquiring whether I was alright ie was I about to vom in his cab because there is an extra charge for that you know. I think I passed out at that stage.

We eventually arrived chez nous and I was hauled out of the cab by my best male buddy who propped me up against the garden wall whilst he tried to open the front door. My repeated drunken sqwackings as to 'Where's my handbag? Where's my handbag?' must have irritated him at this point as he shouted at me to stop worrying about my bloody handbag as Zuzu had it. I then burst into tears because my best male buddy hated me and had shouted at me.

Somehow we made it to our top floor flat and I was sprawled on the sofa whilst Zuzu tried to help me take off my Johnny Wows (read rip off Jimmy Choo) boots. Zuzu huffed and she puffed and she pulled me off the sofa ... because she was too twatted to notice my boots were lace ups and I was too far gone to tell her. We both found this hysterical. Eventually I made it to my bedroom where I threw the (empty I hasten to add) impromptu sick bowl (ie washing up bowl) that Zuzu had kindly deposited by my bed into the hallway because apparently I wasn't that drunk thank you very much.

There is a hazy memory that I may have tried to get out of bed and fallen, headbutting my bedside table and blooding my nose. I remember nothing more until the next morning. When I woke up starkers as a starfish on my duvet cover ... and completely mortified that I may have stripped off naked in front of my two best friends. The full complexity of the saga took a full two days to be unravelled from my amnesiac memory. For shame.

At least I have never done that ... oh ... my bad:(