The dangers of alcohol

Another fab weekend has come and gone – loads of highlights including climbing my first ever 18 – woohoo! A sympathy vomit from FD and meeting a gorgeous group of gal bloggers. (Please note, the list of highlights is in no particular order).

This despite a fairly disastrous Friday evening...

The workday had provided ample reason to celebrate, and our newest team member, The Frenchman, decided we should celebrate by drinking wine glasses of Pongracz from about 4pm in afternoon. By the time 4:30pm rolled by, I was already a little unsteady on my feet and flushed in the cheeks. It was too early to go home so I decided it was time to take care of some emails – including one to the managing director detailing the direction I felt some our special projects should be moving (in retrospect, possibly not the best task to undertake with thousands of champagne bubbles popping in my head).

Then the crew from the office decided it was time to move across to the drinking hole across the road from the office – where I proceeded to shoot my first tequila in eons and a couple of glasses of overly fermented nasty white wine. FD was stuck at the office and dying to get out – and as I was about to polish off my second glass of vino, he called to say that he was waiting for me in the parking lot of my apartment complex. I said I’d be done in 5... and then promptly forgot and continued to pour my heart out about whether journalism really is the way forward for me... to my manager (I blame the tequila).

Around 40 minutes later, my phone rang again – as I realised a very hacked off (and justly so) FD had been twiddling his thumbs in the basement parking lot for almost an hour. Yikes. I sped back home to my hungry and dejected boyfriend and almost immediately burst into remorseful tears (alcohol tends to make me extremely dramatic), inhaled a Nando’s cheeseburger and passed out for the night. How is it that this boy still loves me?

Luckily I had remembered to down almost a litre of water the night before and woke up feeling astoundingly chipper. FD and I packed our climbing gear and headed off to Hartbeespoort for a fantastic climbing session where I unknowingly conquered my first ever 18 – only confirmed once we got back to the car and checked the route guide.

That evening we headed off to watch Defending the Caveman and hit Rodizios with some of FD’s mates. With my ego overinflated from the successful climb, I felt like I could take on the world – and decided to join the group in some shooters. Bad idea. As soon as the 35% alcohol content Jagermeister hit my stomach, I felt my body scream in protest. As much as I tried to get past it, I couldn’t – as a very sweet FD kept taking me outside to get some air. Eventually he realised there was no chance of recovery and decided we should go home. Feeling desperately sorry for myself as we walked towards the car, I asked FD: “Can’t you just throw up for me???” I miserably climbed into the passenger seat, only to hear poor FD wretching away outside. This is the second time the sympathy vomit has happened. The first time I had motion sickness and felt like death, and FD, who had been feeling perfectly fine a second before, suddenly began heaving away on the side of the road. This boy really loves me.

Then Sunday I headed off for the first ever bloggirls event at Nde Bush in Fourways. It was a lovely afternoon and I’ve come away with a whole bunch of fantastic new blogs to read – including Doodles of a Journo, Angel, The Jackson Files and Sleepy Jane. Not to mention Phillygirl’s and Sweets’ blogs, which I’ve been addicted to for ages now. Everyone was lovely and the afternoon flew by.

And I was officially chided for not keeping up with my blogging. And not only by the bloggirls – also by FD, who still doesn’t have a clue where to find it! And yes I know, I’ve said it before, but I’m going to try my best to keep on posting!