Strawpedo's and Sticky Shoes: The Good Old Days

As I was sitting with my friends tonight discussing our plans for Friday, it dawned on me: we were arranging to meet OUT- not at my house for pre drinks and outfit trying on, at the actual place we were going to at an actually civilised time. Your 18 year old self is freaking out right now... Actually walking into a bar on your own? Not having your friends vet your outfit beforehand? WTF? 
Now I don't know about you but because I work nights I have adopted the attitude of "Will this bother me after 2 glasses of wine?" and we all know the answer to this one. 



So it got me thinking back to the good old days when I had at least 7 hours from finishing school to leaving the house to go out- ample prep time yet still always rushing about in the last 10 minutes before the taxi came! 
The routine was very important and usually began with prep the night before, followed by the hangover day after in which we tried to fill in the blanks and find out who's idea it was to strawpedo 2 reefs and a Smirnoff ice. 


The Day Before:

Finish school, go to boots and buy Amber Solaire 'no streaks' Bronzer and a new lipstick / nail varnish / Loreal casting - all depending on how committed to the new look you were. 

After dinner, shower, shave entire body and apply extra moisturiser to the elbows and knees. 
Apply fake tan to entire body, scream for mum to come in and do your back then complain that she's 'not blending it evenly' the whole time. 
Walk around like you've lost the use of your joints for the rest of the night, then gracefully collapse into bed like a rigid plank, pull covers over you and lay perfectly still like sleeping beauty until you fall asleep. 
Lay awake for another 3 hours convinced that your bedding is giving you crease marks. 

The Day Of:

Wake up, realise that you have rolled around more in your sleep than a kitten with a ball of wool; inspect the damage and Google every God given way to scrub patchy fake tan off your body. How is it possible that my own drool can remove the tan off my face yet not even sulphuric acid would shift the streak the bed sheet has left up my forearm?

6pm it begins.. tan showered off, hair washed, now how to style it? Let's try straight - feels too boring, a bit 90’s… ok lets curl it! Shit, now it won’t curl properly and the more I go over it the more weird zig zag straight its going. And that stupid Michael Jackson glove I got with the curling wand has gone AWOL and I now have no fingerprints.

Ok make up: So this is where I try to recreate some sexy grunge look I saw in Rihanna’s new music video… No I don’t have time to dye your hair blonde to look just like she does in Russian Roulette. Ok this eye is a little smokier than planned.. now it looks like I’m crying a bit. 
Fuck, why can you only ever get one eyelash on and the other looks like you’ve had a stroke? 
The red lipstick looks horrendous and now it looks like I’ve been snogging cause I didn’t wipe it off properly.

The girls are here! With the pre arranged alcohol that we didn’t pre arrange to go together. Taboo and cranberry anyone? Wait, if we put the zinfandel in my Playboy martini glasses then they look like cosmos! Seriously though who brought Irn Bru?

Playlist on, "OMG I LOVE THIS SONG” to every song that comes on. “We must get the DJ to play this tonight” *Puts 'Hips don’t lie' on and jiggles bum around like an exotic dancer*

Ok so 5 outfits down and you end up putting the first one back on. Don’t put shoes on yet as mum complains that it sounds like a “herd of rhinos” up there; plus they are so caked in last weeks remnants of sambuca and vodka red bull that your feet stick to the floor if you wear them in the house.

Taxi is coming in 10 minutes! Throw everything you can fit into your clutch bag; we never learn that bashing your compact powder around under your armpit all night results in a bag full of dust and crumbly money.

Clomp downstairs to be greeted with “I can’t believe you’re only going out at this time!” Yeah cause we’re badass and you can’t wear this much make up and fake tan in daylight. 

The Morning After:

Urgh. I can smell wine. Why did we not clear all of the glasses out of my room last night? And why is there dried noodles on my bed sheets? 
Ugghhhh what is that!!! Did I eat that?? *looks down at half eaten pot noodle with a trail of Doritos leading to the door* 

OK.. what happened last night? Checks phone; yessss 5 missed calls from that hot guy! Oh SHIT. No, 5 dialled calls! SHIT SHIT SHIT. I must text him and blue the Jaeger.
SHITTING SHIT!!! I text him as well?! Now I can’t double barrel him… God he must think I’m desperate. No, I should probably text to explain. Crap I pressed send mid text. Now I’m triple barrelling him. FML.

Wait, who is this girl in this picture? Why are we in the toilet together? Great so I showed a complete stranger my boobs. Awesome. 

Hmmm my mouth tastes weird… like, smokey weird. Oh no, who let me have a cigarette? I do not look dangerous and sophisticated when I smoke, and its usually followed by a lot of coughing and a teeny tiny little sick in my mouth.

I need water. 

Hmmm the tap is soon far away so this cranberry will do. No wait that’s Zinfandel.

Annnnnd I’ve vomited.

“MUUUUUUUUUUUM!!!!!!!" 

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