Adulthood

So last night I went to celebrate a friend's birthday party. When we went there, she was super pissed off because another clique she invited wasn't coming (though that made me glad because as we all rational adults know, multiple cliques = awkward party, as it stood the clique already there just looked at us and went back to talking amongst each other). So, she starting furious drinking, because she was unhappy (ladies and gentlemen, we have a future AA member here...).

Then, she passed out at like 12-ish am. Of course by now I've had some drinks in my system, and been mixing alcohol too, so this is all insanely hilarious to me - no wait it still is - the awkwardness, the passed out host, the fact that Crystal Palace's football team is abbreviated to CRY when watching TV... and wanting to make sure Nigeria goes to the world cup one day to compete against Germany (Dexter came up with that one).

I had a shitty week, and 80% of my friends went clubbing at UCL's Spectra earlier in the week because they could. This Miss on the other hand, had a presentation at 9am the next day, and submitted an essay on the day itself. Then, I had one more essay due on Friday. Also, I was going for a Yann Tiersen concert the next night. I was, as a responsible adult, obliged to stay in and work/rest. So I did. This however, made me want to eat (potato chips), drink and be merry last night.

On Wednesday, I walked 45 minutes to get to Koko way up in Camden, from my place. Wednesday was also the day of the 3rd tube strikes, though I've only experienced 2 strikes since getting back to London. It was crazy, I started walking at 6:10pm, and I've never seen so much humanity out of the streets before. Usually everyone is funnelled underground into little metal tubes that are shot around London, but for those of us who were too poor to take a taxi (and the roads were all jammed anyway because people living out of town had to take cars in), unable to take a bus (they were all crammed into full capacity), or cycle (and the bike lanes were JAMMED, never seen that one before either), it was back to basics with good old walking. So I walked, 1.7 miles apparently, to Koko. I walked through my old dorm area, and up Eversholt Street towards Mornington Crescent, past the old transexual shop and the area where I got scared last year and turned back.

However, Yann Tiersen was definitely what I expected. From the melodic (ahahaha) strains of the soundtrack of Amelie, to Rue des Cascades - Yann Tiersen as far as I knew - always had a consistent sound. Not that night. He spent 10% of time on the violin (which was mindblowingly excellent) and 90% on the electric guitar. It sounded like a Rammstein version of a Ghostbusters soundtrack, with tripped out synth bits. I was disappointed. Jia was disappointed. Jia's friends were disappointed. The rest of the crowd? They started thinning out after realising what utter shit was being played. It was like listening to someone's mid-life crisis, where he decided to go back and attempt to be the rockstar of teenage dreams. Objectively, the music was OK, but for Yann Tiersen it was an utter disappointment. Plus we had to stand throughout since there were no seats at all in Koko. On the bus back, I heard the other concert goers complaining and calling him "awfully self indulgent".

So with the only high point in my week destroyed by someone's new musical edge, I was really looking forward to last night's party. So I drank, happily. First a little Martini Asti, then a sip of Martini Apple (ew!), Stella Artois and it wad out from Chai's place to wait 30 freaking minutes in the cold for 188 to come -__- Finally at Steph's, we open the cava we brought, and I help myself to a tequilla shot which was damn nasty, and two cups of melon schnapps and sprite. I was a very very happy girl.

Chai walked me back, and we stopped at Chicken Cottage for a bit. I came back, ate some chicken cottage, watched an episode of the Simpsons and then went to sleep. 6 am however, I woke up feeling a bit sick. All the alcohol had rushed to my brain when I lay down, and my stomach was now grotesquely bloated and I wondered if I should puke. After a state of semi-consciousness in which my mind was going SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP and my stomach going I FEEL WEIRD, I got up and walked to the toilet to contemplate what I should do next. Then I thought I'd linger over the toilet bowl, and see if retching came naturally. It did. I was bitter and it burned the fuck out of my throat. I puked multiple times within the next ten minutes, feeling like greek fire and hell fire were pouring out of my throat. All while I was puking, if I wasn't sick from the sheer physical pain, it was thinking 'Dear God I just cleaned this toilet bowl earlier in the day!!! Now it's dirty again!' and that upset me more than the fact that I was puking hellfire.

So with that I concluded I am getting to old before my time. I drank a cup of milo, nibbled on some almonds and went back to sleep. Amazingly, at 10am, I woke up naturally without a hangover.