I’m never going out on a school night again. Never. It’s just not worth it.
See here’s me with a hangover:
And this, my friends, is roughly 25 awesomely cute and generally adorable but also incredibly noisy six year olds.
I’m a professional, me.
Every single time, my partner-in-crime and I have roughly the same conversation, vowing that the pain the morning after simply is not worth the few drinks we have on a week night out.
And here’s the thing, we are just having a few drinks. Home in bed by 12.30 usually. But at 23, my body has already started turning against me, and on a given night, 4 or 5 drinks over the course of a few hours is enough to give me an ear splitting headache, watery mouth, queasy tummy or all of the above!
Gone are the days when I could drink shots of jagermeister all night and get up for a nine o clock lecture [not that that happened very often anyway. Getting up for the lecture now I mean, I spent many a night downing jager]
But then you come home after a stressful day. A way-too-big-for-his-age kid stepped on your toe. Again. A random parent is bothering you because her SIX YEAR OLD child only got 99.7% in their English exam…
“Oh my God, I would murder a glass of wine”
“Yeah, same here”
“Will we go for one?”
“I don’t know, should we?”
“Ah, just the one”
“Oh, look, it’s ladies night/happy hour/Monday”
“We might as well have another one so”
“Oh, look! The Filipino band are playing”
“PLAY NEIL DIAMOND!”
“PLAY THE BEATLES!”
“PLAY BOB MARLEY!”
Such is the talent of this group that they respond to all of our requests above almost immediately, and do them remarkably well. [They play them just with string instruments, moving from table to table serenading you, it’s amazing!]
At this point you know there’s no going home. You are officially having the craic. You might even end up dancing. It’s a great night all round.
And in the morning as you groggily grope around the room trying to make yourself look halfway respectably for the devout Muslim parents you’re going to be seeing at assembly, you swear you’ll never do it again.
Two classes in [“Miss, he took my eraser” ‘Miss, today is my happy birthday” “Miss, I don’t have pencil” “Miss, why is your eyes all red” “Miss, in your country with your mom and your dad and your brother and your sister and your friends do they say for you your name only Katie?”] you consider resigning, just so you can go back to bed.
You swear it will never happen again.
Until next time.