Sunday, November 2, 2008

Good Morning, Vietnam.

HALLOWEEN Pictures, Images and Photos

I'm currently suffering the after effects of two days of drinking.
It's not at all pretty.

Friday seen a halloween drinks at mine.
I currently dwell in my Mum's shed, that has been dubbed Good Morning, Vietnam as I have plants inside and it's constantly a war-zone. Clothes, Arguments, Sexual Negotiations, Artistic and Musical happenings etc etc.
It is also the residency of the majority of friends I have and a small rodent-like creature that I have come to call Alexander the Great.
Previously, i had a pet Huntsman Spider named Kevin, however Kevin crossed the personal space line a few months ago when i woke to find him on my face.
Kevin soon found himself evicted by means of the sole of my slipper.

I spent Friday night with The Girls and Jackson, Joanne's boyfriend. They have officially been promoted to Most Unlikely Couple of 2008.
We drank excessive amounts of Bourbon and Vodka, and even a little bit of Goon, dressed as various fairytale creatures - of course, I dressed as a Pirate's Wench.
We stopped drinking, and continued into the night with a mixed CD, which included Celine Dion. I proceeded to dedicate my 3am rendition of the chorus to Power of Love, to my very absent friend Mike; a delicious little red-head currently residing in Vancouver after various stints in American Fat-Camps with obese, pepped-up, pre-pubescent children.
He is a Tennis Coach, apparently.
Yes, an Australian Tennis Coach.
How unlikely.

After Leah and I were announced Most Alcoholic/Best Shot Taker's on the Bellarine Peninsula, I decided my bed looked a very welcoming place. Forty-five minutes later, Jo is running about the place like a rabid chicken, screaming at me "Leah is dying!"
Code blue in Vietnam.
I wake up, stumble my drunken arse outside to find Leah, face down in a bucket of rancid vom.
With her body temperature decreasing at a rapid pace, and me constantly informing Jo in a slurring manner, about the dangers of hypothermia, Joanne and I tried to get her up I also tried to help.
"Just make her walk; we'll lift her!" Joane was trying to tell me.
"No, fuck that," I replied, grabbing Leah's arm and almost falling in her munt. "Let's just fucking drag her!"
Across the concrete, Leah and I dragged ourselves, with the aid of Joanne, still trying to lift her drunk arse up. We dumped her on a mattress and sausage-rolled her in three blankets and a huge nanna jumper.
Sarah was beside her.
Although we were convinced Sarah was passed out, I was later screamed at by her.
"What?! I'm getting naked!"
"Get me a bucket!"
I tell Jackson to shut his eyes, as I race to the studio to grab a bucket. Quickly emptied my ceramics clay from it, raced it into Sarah.
Pulled my dress down from my belly button and held her hair from the Vom bucket. With some soothing words, I couldn't help but stare at the bile-decayed party-pies and chips, stewing in my favourite bucket. I felt sorry for my bucket.
Emptied the bucket into Mum's flowers.
Just as we thought everyone was ready to be put to beddie-byes, Anishka is outside with 13 glasses of goon and a longneck of beer in her guts, having a mental fucking breakdown. After a half an hour long screaming match with me, she comes to bed.

Just so you know, I have never met a person who can scream and cry as much as Anishka, whilst asleep.
Every hour or so, she would announce a loud "Oh, fuck me!" or "Noo!" or even a "FUCK YOU!"
I was convinced she was chasing a rabbit.
We would all laugh, slur a little, and go back to sleep.

I woke around 10am, to a rank acid smell. I rolled over, and found Anishka with her back to me, laying in a putrid pool of pale vom.
She had totally missed the towel in which i had put down for her to vom all over, and spewed on my best black sheets.
I was not impressed.

Rule Number One, of Getting Drunk in Vietnam: No Vomming inside.
Rule Number Two, of Getting Drunk in Vietnam: No Vomming on my Carpet: Outside is acceptable.
Rule Number Three, of Getting Drunk in Vietnam: If It involves your bodily secretions or liquids, you clean the shit up.

Whilst Anishka swept her vom from the floor and I stripped the bed, I recieved a call from work. Apparenty, i was a hour late.
So off I toddled, quite angrily and still rather drunk, down to work.
Forgot most of the prices.
Got abused by a woggish lady with terrible hair and too much foundation, that her double-shot-extra-milky-skinny-flat-sugary-latte was taing to long, after she only ordered it two minutes before. She was obviously blinded by the disgusting amount of eye makeup she wore, to realise the 40-odd people standing in the shop waiting to shout their orders at us.
I felt like taking her complicated fucking coffee beverage, and injecting its contents into her eye.

Got a lift home with coworker Mark, who does not look legal enough to drive. He was asked his age once; he was informed he looked no older than thirteen.
I lolled.

Saturday night seen me have a brief nanna nap, eat a gross amount of toasted sandwiches and drink the remainder of the alcohol with Dad, who had arrived late that afternoon with a new scrapbooking album for me.
Dad, an ex-cowboy, now travels an hour and a half to get drunk with his underage daughter, and try to discuss how much of an equilibrium we are for each other. I love the fact that my Dad cooks most of his deserts with the aid of white wine or beer, and makes a mean apple and blackberry pie.
He now gets paid large amounts of money to drive a cement agitator: it basically means he gets paid to sit on his arse in a truck and listen to CD's all day. Occasionally, he pushes a button.

Went to work again today.
Waitressed my arse off.
Fucked up an order.
Danced with a teatowel.
Got a lift home with Mark.
Slept for half an hour.
And now, I'm finished writing this blog

I’m going to leave you with some pictures of our Halloween adventure in Vietnam.

Before Drinking: Maturity Levels soaring in the kitchen. See dicks, breasts, balls and bones.

I add a certain sexuality to my cooking.


taking shots with sarah.

Me and Joanne.

"Wench! Bring me my two cigarettes!"
Me with my cigs, with a numerous amounts of shots in my belly.

"Oh, Mr Bourbon, I do declare!
... you make me very moist."

Anishka's Vom: My bed.
Note: my slippers were very close to the warzone.

L-R: Jackson, Joanne and Leah - awake but not feeling great.

xx Amy-Jean.