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I had but fifty cents

I had but fifty cents on Saturday - and yet, courtesy of Sue and Heidi, behaved like a Withnail/Creosote hybrid - and didn't suffer for it in the slightest.

Heidi's photography exhibition. She sold one of my favourites almost straight away - an infra red photo of Aunty Em's house. Free wine. Four games of foosball with Anis, her eerie companion providing commentary.

The Buffet King. More red wine, and three healthy platefuls of the following:

chicken, pork, beef, shrimp, broccoli, bamboo shoots, carrot, mussels, chili chicken, lemon chicken wings, chow mein, egg fried rice, seaweed, spring rolls, pancakes, duck, deep fried chicken, squid and deep fried pork, and then two bowls of watermelon and ice cream.

An hour's nap, followed by fresh coffee and a joint. This was perhaps crucial to my longevity, and to Sunday's good health.

The Pub. A pint of Guinness before we got a round of gold tequilas in. I met a lovely gentleman called Stanley, and we talked about bas couture, Viv Stanshall and Hal Hartley, and I blushed every time I said "Aye" because one of his was glass.

The Venue. Vodka and orange, Magners, tequila and Budvar. Heidi and I got chatted up by picture-book Australians. Hers said: "You're sexy", to which she jeered, "You're Australian" before running for the hills. Later on, he grabbed my arse while overtaking me on the stairs, rendering him eligible for a quick "Coatesy Walk"*, which I awarded immediately, to his dismay. My Australian was far less forward. His name was Rick, and it took him a surprisingly long time to ask whether I was miking fan of him.

Rosy: "What are your likes and dislikes?"
Rick: "Having a good time".
Rosy: *appears to be genuinely crestfallen* "Oh - I don't really like having a good time. You really like having a good time? Would you say, though, that you dislike not having a good time? Oh, dear. Well, what would you say were your likes and dislikes?"
Heidi: Quick! Come upstairs! The pig's stripping off!

- For the pig upstairs was doing a striptease**.

Heather's Party. Grass vodka, grass Schnapps, whiskey and wine until breakfast time. A gentleman named Mickey and I spent a considerable amount of time saying to one another, "That's so weird - I was just going to say that", and not much else. I slept from about nine to two, and woke up feeling ABSOLUTELY FINE. So there.

In other news, I will shag anyone who buys me this.

* Coatesy Walk(n). Nineteen years ago. Christopher Coates: petulant Dresden piglet, a head taller than me at least. "I've got more stamps than you," he remarked. "I've got a carrier bagful at home, actually," I replied. Without batting an eyelid, he declared: "I've got a binbag full. My uncle gave me them.". He had to be punished for his idle boasting. Grasping his arms firmly from behind, I goosestepped across the classroom, pistonning my bony little knee up his arse with every step. As time went on, the mere contemplation of Coatesy's tendency to apocrypha could trigger a "Coatesy Walk".

** He really was: I'll post a "pic" before long.

Posted by rosy at août 23, 2004 12:43 PM | TrackBack