Lately, LovelyFriend and I have found it tricky to get together. Last week, however, we managed to get the planets in alignment, Uranus was lodged in someone’s Chakra and my Chi got eaten by my neighbour’s moggie. LovelyFriend and I ensconced ourselves with a bottle (ok, 2 bottles..maybe 3...) of champagne and made up for a month or so of disconnection. While it sounds all very nice, we actually went a little too hard for a little too long and stayed up almost all night (on a school night, mind) and spent many, many, many days paying for it afterwards.

It occurred to me today, while I was trying to figure out what went askew, that I used to be younger and more able to manage the consequences of those sorts of nights. Actually, to be completely honest, my exact thought was: “I used to be younger than I thought I was”.

The slow drawl of emails back and forth on the morning after the night before was worrying, to say the least.

Lovely Friend (LF): Are you dead ?

Me: Nope - Yes. Am dead as a Dodo....or a Doornail....or a DodoDoormailomygodiamdead.......ohmygawd..... *rocking back and forth*

LF: Oh no. Was lots of fun, but now I feel Satan defecated inside my head while I was sleeping.

Me: That dragging sound you are hearing is me trying to drag myself over to the Campus Centre to stock up on caffeine in all shapes and sizes, chocolate with extra sugar and something baked, THEN covered in lard and sugar and THEN deep-friend in oil made from the souls of students who get in my way... Want anything ???

LF: Yes. I’ll have 4 of those… Am dying. Dying to DEATH !!!

Me: Just to be safe, I think I had better double BOTH our orders - actually, I’ll just go ahead and ‘square’ it....so 16 of everything is pretty much what we should end up with...I think...maths was never my strong point...especially when my brain is a quivering mass of something that isn’t a good thing...maybe it’s meant to be 64 of everything.

LF: I need the dishes done and a hamburger fetched. I feel very unwell. Did I mention I can kill people with my brain?

Me: May I drop in and pick up my skirt tonight ? I promise I won’t stay and drink champagne and talk and talk and talk..... ohmygawdmybrainhurts ...You’re not trying to kill me with your brain right now, are you ???

LF: Sorry. Just had to rest head on desk for a while. I still haven’t fixed your skirt {bad friend} I will try to do it when I get home. You very welcome to pick it up but if you bring alcohol or cigarettes I will throw things at you. If I was trying to kill you with my brain it wouldn’t work because I appear to have left it in my other trousers.

Me: I can see now why serial killers keep heads in their fridges - they are spare heads for when their heads are not working properly. Skirt - if you don’t get a chance, don’t stress...I’ll just try and sew it to my jumper tonight. Kill me now...please...it would be a mercy... *weeping*

LF: WANT Krispy Kremes (kill or cure) but not sure if can safely drive to Chadstone. Or walk from car park to donuts and back again. What to do????????

Me: I think my necklace is trying to kill me - keeps getting all twisted and tightening itself around my throat. I have to say that I don’t understand that whole auto-erotic thing at ALL - it’s not making me feel excited; it’s got me feeling slightly afraid of my own accessories... So, how do you keep from accidentally killing yourself with your own brain ?

LF: *Sudden overwhelming fear* I never thought of that… I’d better be really careful… *thinks careful tip-toey thoughts*

Me: Just came back from trying to get something with a lot of caffeine, a lot of sugar and a lot of red food colouring in it = epic fail. Blardy organic tree-hugging bleeding-heart gluten-free soul-crushing cardboard-food-producing hippies have ruined EVERYTHING. How can one be expected to get through the day when any vaguely joyful deep-fried glazed-lard artificial-colouring-laden nectar of the over-processed-gods has been driven from the campus ?!?!?!

OMG - it is...

a) only Monday

b) only 9.51am

c) only November

I need...

a) a Latte the size of a shipping container

b) something baked...and heavily, heavily glazed

c) something soft to lie down on

I think I might...

a) cry

b) weep

c) sob

Please send...

a) help

b) sugar

c) Hugh Jackman

I think LovelyFriend and I will conveniently block this out of our memories next time we get together to go hard or go home… Sad, really, but perhaps you can learn from our mistakes.

Just remind yourself that NONE of us are even remotely as young as I once thought you were…

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