Thursdays are the new black

When my alarm woke me this morning, I at first thought I had suffered a stroke. There was a funny taste in my mouth, I couldn't move and my head was extremely fuzzy. I had visions of myself laying there paralysed for weeks only to be discovered when neighbours complained of a funny smell coming from flat number 5............ However, slowly last nights antics came flooding back and I realised I had not had a stroke. I had just had Telstar over last night. The funny taste in my mouth was from the last fajita I had wolfed down at 2.52 am and the reason I couldn't move could probably be related to the 4 bottles of vino we had shared, and my head was most likely fuzzy because it was 7:30 am, and Telstar and I had been up drinking until 4:00 am.

I am of the opinion that Thursday is the new Friday. I have always preferred going out on a Thursday, because it is a school night and you are technically being naughty as there is work the next day, but you can justify staying up drinking like we did last night as you only have Friday to get through, just one day of hell. Put like that it just makes sense. For me there is something rather comforting and familiar about waking up the way I did today. It means the weekend is here.

Telstar and I had much to discuss last night, firstly his impending redundancy. I know exactly how he feels, because I suffered the same thing back in July from the same company. The funny thing is, at my leaving drinks I had jokingly said to Telstar- you'll be gone by December. I was a month out, his last day is 31st January. Neither of us are particularly happy about the situation, Telstar because he is out on his ear, and me because my psychic powers are not as finely tuned as they once were. So we spent some time planning our revenge and have decided the best way is to contact Watch Dog who will in turn expose them as the charlatans they are to the nation. We have both decided that our interviews for the showare to be filmed with us silhouetted..... We are clearly very bitter about the whole thing, but like mother always said, revenge is better than Christmas.

We then talked shop, making many new discoveries along the way, such as whilst Telstar is a staunch atheist, I am borderline agnostic. We are both currently having issues with our step parents and are considering cutting our real ones out of our lives altogether. We both have the new Jamiroquai cd on our wish list, and neither of us are any closer to realising our dream of sleeping with hot Brit actor Danny Dyer.

I then made us chicken fajitas, (with no offer of help to be had) while Telstar sank wine like prohibition was coming in, played with my cat and made a general nuisance of himself by dancing around my kitchen while I was trying to prepare a meal. To be honest I was quite glad he was where I could see him. usually when he comes over he is far too busy stealing my clothes and Will & Grace box sets to offer me any form of help in the kitchen....... the DVD's I completely understand, I mean, Will & Grace is the best sitcom ever made, but the clothes confuse me. I am 5' 5" and a little bit, shall we say rotund, and Telstar is over six foot and makes Nicole Ritchie look like she should be on the Zone. When we walk down the road together, we look like the number 10.

Things took a turn for the worse when I pulled out a joint that I had secured form Mr C the previous evening. Neither of us have smoked a joint in about 2 years, and it was like riding a bike, you never actually forget how to do it. What you do forget is the effect that it can have on your speech and coordination. We smoked it like we were a pair of Rastafarians swaying in hammocks, listening to Buju Banton, who were used to smoking the equivalent of their dreadlock weight in gunja a day. But we are in fact two light weight queens who bit off more than they could chew. Telstar was having trouble getting the contents of his fajita in his mouth, and I was having difficulty speaking in my mother tongue. The next thing I know, Telstar is rummaging in my fridge looking for double cream and a melting chocolate sponge pudding, whilst I am giggling so hard I drop my glass of wine onto the kitchen floor. This resutled in even more hysterics, and at one point only the cats and dogs in the neighbourhood could hear us. It was all getting a little bit too real for our liking so we decided the only way forward was to drink ourselves into stupor in a bid to cancel out the effects of the joint and to ease our paranoia.

All in all it was a good night, and I for one, can't wait to do it all over again