Dude, where's my liver?

Considering the amount of alcohol I put away yesterday it's a miracle I can walk, talk or see so you're lucky to be getting this post. We started at midday and got home, by the Other Half's reckoning (I was past reckoning by this stage, as you will see) at around ten thirty. Over the ten or so hours I had at least ten pints of lager, one shot of tequila and two shots of something blue. We drank, we danced (well, me and him did anyway), we went to a punk gig (apparently) and we really, really should have gone home sooner. And oh, how we laughed. It was hard not to really, what with the birthday boy in a hot-pink bridesmaid dress and a seventies pimp with zebra-print platform boots among the entourage. I have probably never laughed so much in my life but boy, I'm suffering for it today. My cutlass broke, I lost my telescope and I never even managed to put my eyepatch on. I'm told I walked into an unprecedented three lamp-posts on the way home but this is unsubstantiated due to me not remembering anything past the taxi to the last pub, let alone the walk to the taxi rank and the solace of a warm comfy place to pass out in. And would you believe it, someone else went as a pirate. Typical. But I won because I had more earrings. There will be photos tomorrow but my dialup is so ridiculously slow that I can't post any now. However, anyone who cares to pop over here and scroll down a bit will see the assembled lunatics in all their glory. There are now six more people in the world who never want to see the Other Half's genitals again and for that we sincerely apologise. Apart from that, who says binge drinking is bad for you? We had a whale of a time.

In other news, while we were enjoying a restorative fry-up in the best greasy spoon in town this morning, the Other Half and I choked on our sausages when the large couple at the next table stood up to leave and said to their eighteen month old son "come on Hendrix, we're going now". Poor kid. I suppose he'll consider himself lucky in later life that he's not called Zappa or Malmsteen. What is the world coming to? Oh, and Small Person banged her head getting out of Daddy's car yesterday and felt moved to comment "Oh, fucking hell". Glad to see school is being such a positive influence.