digital downpour

So last night, my girlfriends and I meet up for supper and a secret santa exchange like we do every christmas. This year, we opt for a bring-your-own-wine Vietnamese place on Duluth which looked nice and cosy. No more than 15 minutes after ordering, one of our bottles already downed and Zena is lighting the place on fire with the tissue paper I used to wrap her gift. Apparently, she hadn't noticed the lit candle.

Cut to after the meal, three more bottles of wine emptied and we're all a little tanked, stumbling up Duluth towards my house. For some reason, we think we need more wine and so stop in at a dep before the 11pm booze-deadline. We scrounge up our last remaining dollars for the cheapest bottle of red and Adele steals an ugly hairpin for Sophie on her way out. Ah, the spirit of giving...

Half way to my house, we change plans and head over to Le Pistol for some Sangria. We knock back half of it then pour in our own bottle of wine under the table (a handy girl (aka Zena) has a cork screw on her at all times, you see.) By now we are the rowdiest drunks Le Pistol has surely seen on a cold Monday night, but does that stop us? No of course not, we order another pitcher, most of which we spilled and some of which we drank and some more still of which I aparently dumped onto Sophie for making fun of me about spilling my drink.

Finally we wobble out of there and head pack to my place, unsure if we paid for the booze or just skipped out on the bill. Confronted with my back gate which in our drunken stupor seems to be frozen shut, we climb over my 9 foot fence and find a conveniently placed pool ladder on the other side. Odd, but helpful.

This morning, the contents of Adele's purse are somehow covered in sticky booze, Zena claims it's a holiday miracle that she didn't barf and I don't remember anything after that second pitcher. As for Sophie, she had to go to work nice and early at the daycare today and look after the city's young-ins. Sucker.