Mince pies and mulled wine, cocktails and canapes

Personally I think Christmas Day is crap, but I do like the build up to what is falsely labelled “the big day”. I lose interest after 25 December, but the rest of the month is usually filled with parties, socialising and general merriment.

Tonight some work buddies are coming to my place for an evening mince pies and mulled wine, the latter being of the homemade variety. The fact that most of them don’t like either of these foodstuffs is neither here nor there; it’s a chance to stuff our faces and exchange banter outside the office walls. A few poor soles have snuffles too, so it won’t be a mad one, but fun nonetheless.

On Saturday, the partying steps up a gear with cocktails and canapes (my pre-birthday celebrations) and then throwing some shapes out in town. I love parties, especially hosting them, although I do get a bit stressed by the incredibly impractical colour of my carpet and the fact people (and me, mostly) keep spilling things on it. Usually dark red liquids, sod’s law.

Throwing parties does have it’s downside. Things get messy – literally – so the next day is spent tidying up, clearing up broken glass and finding people’s left behind belongings – scarves, jewellery, the odd toothbrush or lip gloss etc. But that’s all outweighed by the fun factor. I like to think of myself as a social butterfly and Christmas is the time to be spreading my wings.

That said, I need to fly – gotta fish out that triple-disc Christmas CD…

Nearly 29 and none the wiser

As I rapidly approach my 29th birthday, eek, I wonder if I will ever grow out of doing totally stupid things – like getting totally plastered and feeling so ill the next day I almost call an ambulance out.

Okay, slight exaggeration; no ambulances. But, cripes, when will I learn that teetering around in a dress and high heels, drunk as a skunk and slurring my words, is not ladylike. And the hangover that follows is a complete waste of a day and the closest I’ll get to ever feeling like a corpse. Until I actually die, that is.

It was the volleyball Christmas do at the weekend – dinner, drinks, karaoke and dancing, and yet more drinks. As one of the organisers of this event I feel I ought to make an extra special effort to ensure it goes well and so conjured up a pass the parcel game to start off the festivities – with a framed photo of me and my fellow social secretary as the prize. Superb! It went down well.

But I also feel like I need to get drunk too, for some reason, and usually with some speed. And if I’m not merry by the time the main course comes out, then I feel I have to double up on drinkage. Stoopid, stoopid girl.

Anyhoo, the night was a blast and I particularly enjoyed mine and LJ’s rendition of Whitney H’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody and the volleyball boys’ Bohemian Rhapsody. Tuneful!

I rolled into my mate’s house at 3am ish, remembering very little – except I needed to get to the bathroom quickly! I’ll spare you the graphics, but I awoke the next morning in full make-up, dangly earrings still in place, and feeling like someone had bashed me around the head with a frying pan. Ugh!

A bacon and egg sarnie later – which didn’t stay down long – and I attempted the hour-long drive home as my mate had a family emergency to attend to. Bad move. With barely enough strength to hold the steering wheel and trying desperately not to vom in my own lap, I made the dangerous and no doubt illegal drive home.

On arrival, I collapsed in my bed and there I stayed for the whole day. It wasn’t until 6.30pm that I was able to keep solids down and I just felt awful. Hopefully, a lesson learned, ‘cos at the moment the thought of touching alcohol makes me tremour!

So, when I hit the grand age of 29 next week will this silly behaviour stop? I’d like to think so – and it does happen less and less frequently now I’m getting on a bit – but there are bound to be a few bloopers. Hopefully no more this year though, at least!

A Christmas cracker!

It was the works Christmas bash last Thursday – it has taken me this long to feel well enoguh to write about it – and oh, what fun was had.

As the department’s social secretary I felt duty-bound to get the party started by getting as drunk as a skunk before they rolled the main courses out. In fact, I’d been gearing up for it all day by wearing socks with mistletoe on, eating a Christmas sandwich for lunch and playing festive tunes while me and some of the girlies piled on the slap and pulled on our glad rags.

We supped cava before piling into taxis and plonking ourselves in the middle of the action at Bistro Live. What followed was a three course meal, copious amounts of alcohol, a lot of banter and even more dancing. Wicked! There was also a lot of photographic and video evidence proving how much fun we’d had. Seemed like a good idea at the time!

When the doors closed, a few of us just weren’t ready to go home and so ended up – God only knows how – at a place called Pink Punters, a lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender club. Not your average night out eh? And it was brilliant, if a tad on the quiet side. Must be Thursday nights. But the atmosphere was superb.

We bopped and bopped until our feet were black (shoes had been removed at this point) and made a few new friends, namely a guy in a mini mini skirt and huge platforms, a woman with a massive hole in her tights and a gay guy called Jay – very friendly and a tad competitive when it came to throwing out shapes with my mate Kath.

Anyhoo, highlights of the evening include:

• Gem banging her head on a speaker. Her shoes were so high she looked like a giant
• Kath’s dance moves – she’s so wasted in media relations. That girl was born to be on stage!
• The Christmas quiz that I put together. Much fun. Why did folk think Kath was the colleague who liked rugby, horses and Russian boobs? Worrying!
• Waving a flag at the dinner table when you needed another drink. Oh, the power
• Carrying Gem home, pulling her up the stairs to my apartment and leaving her in a crumpled mess outside the front door, her dress pushed up around her waist. Tres ladylike!

And the lowlights…

• Being included in rounds with two lots of people which cost me twice as much money and got me twice as drunk
• Dancing so much my feet were killing me and the soles turned black
• Spilling tea all over my very pale carpet at 3am and doing a very bad job of cleaning it up
• Going out on a Thursday night? What was I thinking? Serious hangover on Friday and major sleep deprivation

Ginger wine anyone?

Hoorah, it’s the weekend! At last. Most of mine will be dedicated to my CIPR research project, boo hoo, so tonight I’m going to get all my pent up energy out of my system… by getting plastered and throwing some shapes out. Not on my own, obviously, that would be sad.

Tonight three mates from volleyball are coming down from Leicester and my bro and his best mate (my adopted bro) are joining us from the Shire. The plan looks something like this:

• Head to Tesco after work to buy foot pump. Six people and two double beds means two people will have to slum it on my floor and I don’t fancy blowing an airbed up like I would a balloon. It would take ages.
• Tidy flat. I don’t know why I do this when I have visitors because it only gets messed up within 10 minutes of their arrival. However, I am house proud and and the flat looks so much bigger when it’s sparkly clean.
• Prepare food. This means taking it out of the wrappers and putting it in the oven. Boozy Friday nights are for junk food only, although I might chop celery and carrots to go with the dip so there’s at least one healthy option.
• Have a drink. I’ll be on wine tonight (as always) but will warm up with a few glasses of ginger wine – with crushed ice, it’s the only way to drink it. Totally yummers – a word I learned off CK and one for Wordia perhaps?
• Find the iron. Bro always needs to iron his clothes when he comes over, a concept which is totally foreign to me. I NEVER iron EVER and can never find the damn thing when bro asks for it. So this time I will be prepared.
• Get ready. LJ has been roped into curling my hair (‘cos I am crap at hair) and I want to look kinda girly tonight. The dresscode has been set as glamourous so sparkly eyeshadaw, high heels and dresses will be fetched out of the wardrobe.
• All of the above will be done while listening to loud dance music. I need to show my neighbours that I can play my music just as loudly as they can play theres. He he.
• General chatter, merryness, banter, drinking and eating before we head out into town (9pm to 9.30pm ish is what we’re aiming for). Might be organised and book taxis in advance.
• Hit the town. few bars to start with and then for some dancing. As I write this I’m already listening to some top tunes on the iPod to get me in the mood.
• And tomorrow morning? Probably wish none of the above had taken place! Hopefully I won’t get to talk to God down the big white telephone.

Cheers!

One of my buddies has just started her own PR business and her first investment has been a BMW. She’s such a flash git!

So, in celebration of her new career and her new wheels, we’ll be drinking in style on Saturday night when she comes over to hang with me and the MK Massive. We’ll be downing a drinky called Dr Pepper, which we’ve imported from our recent ski jolly in France.

The drink consists of the following: Fill one tumbler with equal measures of beer and coke (sounds gross but bear with me). Then fill a shot glass with Amaretto and insert said shot glass (keeping the contents inside the glass) into the tumbler of beer and coke, trying to avoid spillages. Then down the lot. Yum!

I was dubious when the ski chalet barman pushed it my way for the first time the other week, thinking I was going to spectacularly pour booze down my face and end up being a sticky mess. How was the shot glass going to stay inside the tumbler? Wasn’t it just going to bounce off my nose?

Not so. It tasted yummy – a bit like Dr Pepper I guess, hence the name – and there were no leakages. Here’s to the weekend, even if it is only Tuesday.

Ski jollies: Part 2 (Lessons learned)

These are the lessons that me and my ski chums learned while on our ski jollies:

• Don’t get off the bucket lift half way. It results in a half hour wait to get back on and laughter from others who pass by, realising what you’ve done
• Don’t forget your gloves or your sunglasses, especially when retrieving them means a trek up three flights of stairs
• Don’t be afraid to wear a hat or goggles on the slopes. You may look like a knobhead but at least you’re warm and have 100 per cent visibility
• Always wear suncream. Red faces are a fashion faux pas
• Avoid trips to the toilets at mountain restaurants. It will involve a slippery staircase and you will fall over
• Don’t sit in a gondola facing down the slope if you’re scared of heights
• Don’t closely examine how well chair lifts are attached to the wire when you’ve just embarked the scare chair
• Don’t ski when it’s raining, goggles do not have windscreen wipers
• Don’t ski in front of a boarder, it may well end in tears
• Don’t eat yellow snow, or brown snow for that matter
• Don’t try and be cool when walking in ski boots, it’s impossible
• Don’t water down your wine when other people are looking
• Don’t accept a leaving drink when it’s a shot of chilli vodka. The aftertaste will be stinging your tastebuds for a good 20 minutes after consumption. Yuk!
• Never mix your drinks. This can only result in a hangover from hell
• Don’t take wine with anyone. This is a dangerous game concocted by Essex folk and despite creating much laughter along the way, will only end in embarrassment or feeling sick or both
• Don’t drink wine out of carafes. It sets a very dangerous precedent
• Don’t put your trackies on when you’ve just got out of the hot tub, you will look like you’ve had a little accident
• If you do something “naughty” then don’t leave any evidence behind (soz Mand!)
• When you fall over, try not to point your skis downhill ‘cos you’ll just keep going (soz Mand!)
• Be aware that if you wear a headband, you may look like a misplaced tennis player (soz Mand)
• Drink water and when you think you’ve had enough, drink some more water(thanks Jules)
• If you can’t get enough sleep at night, try and catch a few winks before dinner
• If you don’t like queues, enclosed spaces and long periods of pointless waiting, don’t fly out of Chambery Airport