This past Friday began when I headed off to Bedford with my fellow Friday drinkers, having passed on the normal Dept. drinks to doll/slut (the difference is dependent on perspective) myself up for a ball that I'd be attending later that night. Good ol' Bedford happened to be on happy hour, so I decided to drink up in the hour that I was there, sinking a vodka lemon lime, vodka cran (that happened to have 1.5 shots in it), and a g & t. I was a bit worried that 3.5 drinks in the space of an 1.5 hours might have been a bit much, but I didn't feel particularly out of it as I tripped on over in my Paris shoes to where the ball was located.
Normally, when I attend a ball, I don't expect the alcohol to run free, that's just crazy talk, but I do expect wine to be available. None of that was available at this ball. While I don't think I was devastated to realise that, a supply of alcohol may have put me in a more charitable mood towards the keynote speak who lectured us about poverty. At least the quality of the food was really quite good (perhaps best I've ever had at a ball), and that stopped me from getting into too much mischief.
However, there was a silver lining to this tale of woe. I met up with Poosy and co. at Manchuria (above), to find that she was three sheets to the wind and that I'd have to drive us home. One meal at Stalactites later, and the night didn't seem so bad after all.
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