The fun before the fall

When you're young, you know that when you grow up, you'll be living next door to your best friend on earth, you'll be going on double dates with fabulous men, you'll be saving the world in the course of your kickass job and you will be doing all this before you're 25.

Then you grow up and you realize you know nothing at all.
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Last night, not one but two people told me that I was 'domestic'. Deepy affronted, I threatened to take away their home-made boniet served with warm oven-fresh crusty bread, and chicken-and-mushroom cream pasta served with a side of salad and avocados with lashings of balsamic vinegar and extra virgin olive oil. In retrospect, perhaps that was not the best way to make my point.
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The exams are finally over and after working myself to the bone, I, and pretty much everyone in my year, went completely apeshit for two days straight to try and forget the horror which was practical anatomy. No such luck, but we tried real hard. Which explains why I ended up drinking two nights in a row, once getting rather sloshed on some rather good amber ale, another time skulling wine somethingorother and then upending shots of something green which burned a trail of fire down my throat and ended up with me standing rightinfront of the band's guitarist and screaming that yes, it ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race. He wanted me, I could tell. I may have played some air guitar, but you can't prove it. My left boob was lovingly squeezed by my gorgeous classmate for reasons only she can explain. Someone ended up in th hosptial. There was some dirty dancing using lamp posts once the club finally closed, and some very loud declarations of our ethnic status in a kebab shop to some bogans who thought we were Japanese. There was a drunken consideration of walking back home (1.5 hours in 10 degree weather wearing a sleeveless top) before salvation arrived in the form of our non-drunken bartender.

Today, two days later, I can't raise my arms above my head from partying so hard, my abdominal muscles hurt from dancing and I have a massive blister on the back of my heel. And I'm still on the ceiling. And anxiety has brought its friends.