Found this on Nam's photoblog along with a few more drunk photos of me, and about 2000 drunk photos of many other people. Some scenic shots too...of stuff like rocks. But nothing rocks like a Mulwarree party. Ahha, snigger, I truly am so hilarious that I can't quite believe it, am definately next big thing in witty diary-writers, in manner of Bridget Jones or other fantastic single girl about town.

Am definitely going crazy since I have been studying all day and am none the wiser, and as such can only think, and write, in cliches.

I do actually have a fairly funny story though, which involves me consuming what didn't seem to be, at the time, a huge amount of alcohol:

A group of us went out on Thursday night to the end of session party. Three bottles of pink champagne and a bottle of rose (that I won at trivia for knowing the who-am-I? of Gustav Nossel...but that's really another story for another time) between the three of us, and we made our merry way to the Roundhouse.

Incident numero uno. The six of us jump into the UniBeat with an almost full bottle of pink champagne, to get us through the trip you know, and we're generally acting jovial and probably quite drunk. Then, the driver all of a sudden stops the bus and turns on the lights and starts going "what's in that bottle?!?!", and we're going "we don't know", thinking holy shit, there goes our last bottle of pink champagne for the night, he goes "it smells like beer", we say "no, it's not beer...we don't know what it is but it isn't beer" (imagine at this point all of us looking fairly shifty), he says "give the bottle to me". Again we're thinking holy shit, there goes our last bottle of pink champagne for the night.........he smells the bottle......and gives it back to us.

Strange event 2. We make it to the Roundhouse, drink the remainder of our bottle in the carpark. A thought made even classier by the fact that by now we're drinking it out of the bottle. Anyway, we make it inside only to find that the party's really crap; no surprise there. Jess and Fiona and myself are by now, quite naturally, absolutely on our way to being kerschnoogled and we're dancing very energetically to some mad 80's songs, at which point we turn around to the see IBBO standing behind us trying to join in and looking, as usual, crazy and google-eyed, and well, let's face it: insano. So we run away. Very quickly and probably very obviously.

Unusual happening number three. I meet a lot of people. See a lot of people. Hug a lot of people. Get a lighter from someone I've never met before. Hug some more people. So actually..that one's not so unusual.

Number four. I pass out in MacDonalds for a little while.

Experience #5. We make it home, and say our good-byes and I toddle down the path to my house. I manage to get in all three doors and only run in to one wall, which was a fairly big achievement. I go in to my bedroom and look at the clock: it's around 2.30am-ish. I think to myself, I need to have a shower, else I won't feel so crash hot tomorrow, but first while I remember I'll just change the time on my alarm clock so it doesn't go off at 7.30am (that would be bad). I go to the shower, manage not to fall asleep and go back to my room to crash in bed. I look at the clock and it says 4.50am-ish and I think HOLY SHIT, I've just lost the last two hours of my life!! Where did they go?!?! Surely I wasn't in the shower for two hours. Oh well, I'm very tired, I'll just go to sleep. The moral , dear reader: it wasn't until the next morning that I figured out I'd actually had my finger on the 'time' button, instead of alarm and I had changed the clock before I got in the shower.

Needless to say, now I'm in study mode, it's probably a good time to take a break from the moonshine. No more pink champagne for me.