Archive for October, 2010

Halloween on Crown Street

So we had variety. There was a foxy Cleopatra, a few witches, a slutty nurse (because we all need someone with a medical background to save a drunken day), toga boys (Swoons a little) a Michael Jackson who popped out of his grave just for the night and a pimp daddy gone wrong. Although I did not understand the concept of his “costume”. Our pimp daddy is usually clad in “bling”, a shirt showing off his imaginary muscles (more like gummy bears) and unkempt hair. Instead he chooses bigger “bling”, powdered unkempt hair and a shirt with stains of blood (still showing off his imaginary muscles. (fat…we call it fat) and calls himself the “pimp”. Nonetheless it was a good night.

We had three witches randomly crashing our party ( all with good intentions of course) and glad we decided to let them in as it turns out they are brilliant at off key karaoke. (You should have heard us sing…. John Travolta and the rest of the Grease cast would have been speechless – not in a good way). Michael Jackson insisted on moon walking (Our slippery floor just made it too easy) and toga boys almost stripped… (Why not go all the way? Pansies)

Foxy Cleopatra went upstairs for a snooze (with a bowl to hurl just in case) – which came in handy…. eventually. The slutty nurse had a little too much vodka and eventually passed out. She should have taken hangover girl’s advice “to prevent hangover, stay drunk”. Happy Halloween!

 

Words of wisdom…

Think about it….. it makes perfect sense!

I know I’m absolutely drunk when I

  • Walk into a club holding a half empty bottle of Vodka and trying to convince the bouncer “I’m totally sober”
  • After three failed attempts, batting my eyelashes at him and calling him a sexy beast
  • Pointing at Indian Sikh men shouting “I love your hat”
  • Telling every random person I “love” them
  • Sending drunk text messages to my friends asking them to join me but it only reads “whrerr aruru..gtuho” (Friends should figure it out anyway).

Of course I cannot recall any of the above – these are just stories my friends probably make up. (Until I read my sent messages).