Narrowly avoided going to the Big City last night. Went to debauchery instead. Knew things were going to get pear shaped when I encountered the first Jagerbomb. You thinks because it is a small dorp the err of Big City ways would fall away. Nah, debauchery lurks in every corner, shimmers and blinks seductively, just waiting for the weak willed, wild child, party animal to innocently walk by. Then it wraps its cloak around you lulling you into a false sense of security as it traps you in in its warm embrace drowning out the voice of reason with its a lullaby of clinking glasses. , Soft and comfy you barely notice the hours slipping by, the lightness of your wallet on a par with that of your head The transition from frazzled office worker to drop dead gorgeous princess means debauchery has definitely taken hold. The first reality check is when you hear the last rounds bell. Even your befuddled brain knows that happens at 2 o Clock. Debauchery leaves you making you feel like a jilted lover. The dawning realisation that tomorrow is nearly upon you can only be drowned by a nightcap and the coma that follows. Then morning happens! Talk about going to bed a princess and waking up a frog. In the wise words of my good friend Brett Retief the opposite of happy is sober and he knows I am a princess:)
Posted on: Thu, 22 Jan 2015 12:03:18 +0000