"Anything is peaceful from 1353 feet."

And yet again I am hungover.
I know, I know, I promised last time that I wouldn't get drunk again, but here we are.
I think I can feel my brain in my head.
Anyway, I'm sitting here next to Daisy, my obese pet dingo-cross, with a giant cup of tea, watching "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" and trying to get rid of my headache before I have to go to work and give a whole bunch of screaming children afternoon tea. Ohhhhh noooo, this is going to be bad.
Also I am now broke from spending all my money on various drinks. And the majority of my memories of last night are:
- Tearing gaping holes in my stockings.
- A beautiful androgynous bartender who I lusted over for the better part of the night, very loudly, and who gave us free drinks (the free drinks were mostly courtesy of my friend T being lusted after by the androgynous bartender because she's amazing, and because he wanted to save us from a couple of weird American guys who kept singing the theme from "The Bodyguard" horribly off pitch).
- a strange bar full of weirdly erotic artworks and a slurring drunk owner who smoked indoors.
- Having really sore feet.
- Another bar full of faux-taxidermy.
- Seeing a bunch of guys hanging out with a busker on the street and singing Beatles songs.
- And eftpos-ing a cheeseburger at three AM on Swanston St.
Basically, it was awesome. And it was with a bunch of pretty great music students who I love.
So that was fun. But now my brain hurts an awful lot.
Also, and for the record, I really wish I looked more like Sloane Peterson.

Love and all.
xx