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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Vivid memories of Wednesday night. Vivid. Multi-coloured, layered with meaning and some nausea-inducing mental images. Vivid, if not particularly clear. We drank, you see, a lot on Wednesday night. This comes from having a free bar tab, being completely unchallenged when asking for continual beers, having beer and shots thrust upon you by MTV VJs (that's right, look impressed), and having some boys around you with which to flutter eye lids.

It's funny how conversations that you have with people while you are out drinking mean so much at the time, make perfect sense and seem totally suitable for the occasion. In retrospect, however, it probably should all have not been said.

We agreed to marry some boys, Susan and I. Actually, I think what happened was that she agreed to marry a boy, and I agreed to marry the other boy because I felt left out, and then the first boy agreed to have an affair with me behind Susan's back, and then my future husband decided that he would have an affair with Susan in that case, and so it went on into some weird Abba-esque agreement. At the end of the night we professed our undying love for each other, and we've not heard a word since. Maybe they didn't mean it after all.

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