I should totally stop doing midweek parties, she said weakly, taking a large chug of her coffee. Grarh. Went out last night to this do at Monica's house, where I drank several large screwdrivers and consequently woke up this morning with a mouth of fur, a terrible cold and several mysterious bruises on my body. I wish I was still in college or school or something, when you got winter holidays, and the next day was off, and your last thought at three a.m as you stagger home and wake up your flatmate to let you in isn't "Fuck, I have to wake up in six hours."
Now, six hours may seem like a lot of sleep to most of you, but trust me, it isn't. I think if I were a fairytale character, I'd be Sleeping Beauty. Oh, the luxury of sleeping and sleeping and sleeping without worrying about whether you were late for something and knowing that your alarm clock was a kiss from a hottie who was also the love of your life. I once played Gretel in a school production of Hansel and Gretel and most cool I was too. Gretel was a fully empowered chick. Her brother was a bit of a dumbass, you know, what with getting lost and eating the witches house and everything, but she was all like, "Oh, don't worry, I marked the trail" and "Oh don't worry, I pushed the witch into the stove, so we're sorted." I once even had a Hansel and Gretel cake (the design of which, by the way, Nirula's STOLE from me. Hmph. I ought to sue) and my crowining moment was lifting up the marzipan witch and biting off her head with great gusto.
Winter parties are such fun, though. Even if you're cold, you warm up eventually. You have so much more energy to do everything and though you can't wear tank tops, you can pull out all your pretty full sleeved tops. Everyone smells good, not sweaty at all, there's a certain snugness to it all. No wonder my socialising quotient has gone through the roof this month. I feel flippant and frivolous and butterfly-like and incapable of serious conversation. My normally short attention span has now become minute, unless of course, we're talking about me. Which is as it should be.
In winter I also usually switch my drink, from Old Monk and Coke to vodka and coke. Vanilla Smirnoff when I can get it, because that, my friends, is delicious and warming. A lot of people have been saying how much they hate winter, but I don't get it, because this is so my time of the year. I come alive in winter, I dance up and down stairs, my heart is filled with well-being, I lie in bed and watch the sunlight from my window dance across my rug and feel happy. It's funny though, this, my first winter of being without ANYONE, even anyone prospective, and I should be feeling lonelier than ever, but I'm okay. I'm better than okay. I don't know how I'll feel on my birthday, considering it's the first birthday in oh, four years, that I'm solo, but my plan is to get very drunk. And look hot and celebrate being conceived and being here and being young.
But that'll be another midweek party. *Sigh* It seems like it's in my karma.
ps: The post titles usually have no other special significance than that I was singing the song before I posted. That's all. No special mystery :)