Debauched and Degenerate

The liver is evil, and must be punished, so the saying goes.

I certainly gave mine a good workout last night.

With my friends from Glasgow, Bec and Bob in town (and temporary residents of my loungeroom) last night saw us head out to dinner at an Indian restaurant with a few other folks, including our mutal friends Craig and Sarah, both of whom Bec and I met through the youth arts organisation Express Media, where we were co-CEOs for a couple of years. The service at Guru Da Dhaba was chaotic, but the food was divine, and I highly recommend it if you haven't eaten there before. Six or seven bottles of wine were consumed between eight people, which was an excellent start to the evening.

Then it was on to Abbotsford, for a house-party thrown by my lovely friend Lisa. One of the many highlights of the party was drinks around the kitchen table and intense discussion about how apparently picky I am as far as potential boyfriends are concerned, as a light rain fell outside and more alcohol was consumed - two stubbies of Mercury dry cider in my case.

Picky? Moi? Heavens, next thing you know people will be accusing me of leading a debauched and degenerate lifestyle...

After an hour or so we returned to my flat and drank absinthe while watching the film clip for the Sigur Rós song 'Viðrar Vel Til Loftárása' from ágætis byrjun, the band's second album, which always leaves me with tears in my eyes.

Leaving Bec and Bob to sleep, given that they were heading off to Bec's parents' place in Venus Bay the next morning, Sarah and I strolled down to Control HQ, which soon descended into sweet debauchery as it was the venue for an Even afterparty. There were bloggers, there were friends, there was far, far too much alcohol - shots, champagne, cider - and several lines of speed.

At about 2.45am I walked Sarah to a taxi, after which I decided to drop into the tail-end of a queer hip-hop night, Down Low, at Alia. Vodka was consumed.

After that things are a little blury. I seem to recall visiting The Peel for an hour or so, and on my way home at about 6am being cruised by a cute boy in a ute, which led to drunken but rather satisfying sex in an alleyway. Eventually of course I collapsed into bed, although I don't actually remember getting home, let alone divesting myself of my clothing and drawing the blinds...

To say that I was seedy today, after rising, would be a massive understatement. But what the fuck, it's the festive season after all. So here's a picture of a drunken Santa.