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I'm back.
Holy fuck. A friend from work's flatmate had her 30th. I went along. It was dress-up, so I wore black and sunglasses (how strange, for me) and said I was a standover man. Which changed into a French standover man with addition of someone's beret. But let's just say that a mixing of two types of unmentionables, two bottles of red, champagne and bitters and some incredibly lethal cocktail isn't a good idea. Well, it is, but I just can't remember most of it. Except for The Fear.
What I do recall is that the acceleration of a taxi was almost terrifying in its hugeness. And that wembley is a Very Good Barbeloid.
Now, if only my pupils would start moving again. |
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