Well folks, I went to a very well attended Halloween party at a friend's apartment complex in Midtown. I went shopping for a hat in the afternoon which set me back $40, but will last me so not a problem. Also decided on a few cheeky beverages whilst I was giving the complex residents a hand setting everything up. They were catering for about 2-300 people and so had loads of decs to put up etc. They were a bit like Jeremy Beadle - shorthanded, so I said that as it was my Friday off work I'd lend a hand. so from about 3pm I was slinging up skeletons, blowing up ballons, moving sun loungers etc.
About 5:30 Costa arrived, a 6'3" Greek lad with a bald head who had decided to be a woman for the night. At this point a couple of the lasses went to sort Costas make up out while the lads carried on shifting gear and getting messy and sweaty. Eventually as the sun fell it was time to get changed. Now it was a "Chicago" themed party so I chose a chalk stripe suit, with a paisley tie and a Homburg hat to top it off - very classy I thought. The link to the musical was somewhat tenuous with some of the costumes, but some really good ones turned up - particularly liked the Roman Emperor which was trez cool.
After drinking some vodkas during the afternoon, along with a couple of pints, as soon as the kegs arrived, I got stuck into the lager (about 7pm). Anyways, as to be expected we partied long and hard into the night, lots of conversation, dancing, laughing and mucking about, mostly thanks to the now 6'6" (in heels) behemoth of a woman that Costa had now become. The numbers began to thin after about 4 am (I think) and one of my last recollections was staggering around the courtyard at 6am, trying every keg to get another pint. The worrying thing was, the courtyard was now completely empty. In true LS28 style I was the last one up trying to get a drink from mostly empty barrels - power! I remember being roughly fed some pizza after dozing off, but this must have done the trick as I have a clear memory of me stomping around the apartment half naked singing "I have a dog his name is Rover..." at 7am. I woke up in my sleeping bag (somehow) in time for me to get to the mall to have my haircut. The stylist must have loved my red eyes and alky breath. A good night.
Saturday night was Billy and Jaclyn's wedding so I went there at about 5pm, saw the lovely service, had some snap and had to leave. My throat was playing up again (see last Seattle trip) and I was feeling very wierd. Sunday I felt ok, but come Monday I felt baaaad. Throat was swollen, couldn't speak, breath right or swallow properly, so I had to take 2 days off the grind. 2 days in bed or on the couch - not good. By the way, American daytime TV absolutely sucks.
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