Oops, I did it again..

Should we talk about the weekend?
Hannah and I finally got to have the Much-Anticipated Oft-Postponed Weekend-To-Celebrate-Rory’s-Birthday (nearly three weeks late.) I have to come to the conclusion that my sister and I are a bad influence on each other, and that our social lives should forever remain apart.
Friday started so well… Hannah got in from work at 6, armed with a Thai Green Curry for two and a bottle of fizzy Chardonnay, and we sat with the box set of ‘Father Ted’ and enjoyed ourselves immensely.
Then, at about quarter to ten, an unexpected taxi arrived loaded with three of Hannah’s workmates, and an invitation for us both to go to ‘The Cellar.’ I’d never been there before, and I imagine I shall never be let in again, and I still couldn’t tell you which Norfolk town it is in; for the ladies in the cab had a bottle of vodka, and it was all downhill from there.
I have a hazy memory of throwing up on a bouncers shoes; of being pushed away from a girls chest with the message ‘I know it’s a birthday party, but you’re not getting your hands on those’; and of stumbling into a pub for Sunday lunch, still wearing the garb I’d gone out in on Friday.. but the rest, as they say, is not fully recollectable in the recent memory section of my brain.
I woke up Monday morning in the bathtub, sore of neck and fuzzy of mouth, with the name ‘Sonia’ and a phone number written on my chest in lipstick. I have yet to summon the courage to call it.
Happy Birthday, R..

RC 10-2-09
1153 GMT