Enjoy the Ride - The Worry Just Isnt Worth it

I was going to write about my experience with the brief fling I had with going home early (about 1am) as I had work (the never ending ruination of my life (drinking)) the next morning.  However on my way to the taxi stand an inebriated 18 year old (found this out later) was falling out of the Big K with a guy either side of her.  I didn’t have to check she was alright; I could have run, jumped in a taxi, grabbed a pie and never thought of it again.  Then it occurred to me of how I would feel, with the combination of an awful hangover plus seeing her photo in Stuff saying MISSING last seen at the Big K and how this would haunt me forever.  So I asked the fatal question of “Are you ok”…. I seem to be telling the story.. I will bullet point from here in

Hysteria
Crying
Friends
Ex Boyfriend
More crying
Water for her
I drink the water
Mum won’t come to pick her up
Hysterical and screamy
Sing “You are my Sunshine” to calm her (why that song no idea, glad it works)
Ex turns up
Calm before the storm
HYSTERIA times infinity
Call ambulance
First ride in an ambulance
I WAS SUPER EXCITED and scared for her
People at hospital ask me all sorts of personal questions about her that I don’t know
I am drunk and think it’s funny to answer with white female, small frame – they are humourless at 2.30am in the morning so…
I tell them I know nothing as im not her friend and meet her about an hour ago, although she has recently broken up with her BF
Half of the hospital staff look at me like I am a complete freak and the other half pat me on the back to say its great people like me are still around
I still want a pie
Her parents come

Her Dad drops me home – kinda weird

Wow that seems like a blog all on its lonesome.  Think ill leave it there.

This is me not sweating the small stuff as the title suggested but I wanted to talk about something completely different.

From a raging alcoholic to the general populace the worry just isn’t worth it.

Face Planting - Not as funny when the cake is harder than your head: Featuring first post nerves.

The stage was set for an amazingly authentic French surprise 60th birthday.  Insert me, a plethora of wine that was unmonitored, a change in seating and the introduction for a lovely group of people to Face Planting. 

I have never been all that interested in growing up and find things like face planting hilarious.  I also thought others would share this with me.  People don’t.  I more feel they thought i was a mildly disturbed drunk.  But alas i transgress.....

Face Planting is the technique of holding your breath and planting your face into whatever is in front of you.  (Disclaimer - not from the Oxford Dictionary)

So sitting at the table between the host and hostess (prime seating change up - no longer by the door where the least people can hear me therefore the less damage i can do) i casually say in my fog horn voice

me: you totally should face plant that.

birthday girl: hahahahaha... huh?  What is that?

table: hmmmmmm and the slightly awkward vibe of this sounds like it could end badly.

me: you like totally put ya face in it.  It’s great.

birthday girl: noooooo

me: totally is - ive done it before.

table: 5 4 3 2 1

still not sure who initiated that.

birthday girl: BANG

me: that was pathetic.  your face isnt covered and you left a shit indent.

table: *laugh*

me: C'mon, ill show you how it is done

table: 5 4 3 2 1

me: BANG!

birthday girl: BANG!

table: *flash* all the cameras are still going

me: what the... the cake is harder than my head. 

birthday girl: hahaha... face planting.  its great.

me: oh i know.  way better when its sponge.

table: thinking - i cant believe this actually happened.


Lessons to be learnt

1)Wine should be monitored when I am at your place for dinner.  Themed or not
2)Face planting is way less painful if the cake is sponge and cream NOT 3kg dark chocolate mud cake lacking any sponge resemblance.
3) If inviting me to a dinner party make sure I do not move from the seat allocated to me by the door.  There is a reason I am separated from the other guests.


Also writing a blog is not as easy nor am I as funny as I thought.  However it has now been done and I usually award myself with a wine, but I’m pretty sure my liver would actually fuck off and write me a Dear John letter advising what a shit relationship we have had and the abuse is too much, so instead I will make friends with my arse and have a cookie.

From a raging alcoholic to the general populace, face planting is hilarious when the cake is NOT harder than your head.