I love this city. My liver, however, does not. It probably does not like me very much either. A friend of mine once told me he was going to preemptively put my name on the liver transplant list now so that by the time I needed one it would be my turn. Hopefully I don't drink my liver into oblivion because then I won't deserve a new one. Those are for sick people.
Regardless, let's just hope I don't end up on any transplant lists, shall we? But as I see it, I'm not being mean to my liver, London is (I know, this is the dumbest thing I may have ever said. It is absolutely me) and when I go back home I won't be drinking nearly enough. And I'm young. Let's face it. I won't be drinking like this forever - as my boss reminds me on the daily. Just yesterday she spent the entire workday at her desk groaning from a hangover. She went out with friends she hadn't seen in ages and got plastered the night before. But that just seems to be acceptable here. Get plastered on a Wednesday night and spend Thursday completely hungover at work. Why not. So yesterday, after work, I immediately called Shahar, went to Stanhope, and met her there. I walked in and went to the bar. I ordered my Strongbow, which came with a complimentary tequila shot, thanks to either Tony, Paul, or an anonymous person. I guess I'll never know. Shahar and Tony had a talk...as in he gave her some talking to. So I went back to the bar and chatted with Paul. They are interviewing candidates for an open bartending position there. He joked that it would have been perfect for me if I wasn't leaving in a few weeks. I'm there all the time anyways. Fair enough. I guess it's too bad I'm not staying. Anyways, I left after Shahar left for her internship tutorial. Had a little tipsy afternoon walk home (I was so busy at work that I pretty much neglected lunch and had a granola bar).
I changed into comfy clothes and had every intention of making myself some dinner. Which I did. I took it into my room, got into bed (yes I like to eat in bed, for all you neat freaks out there. Deal with it. I don't leave crumbs). And then I had a bite and fell asleep. So much for eating dinner. I actually think it is still sitting on my table right now. Well I'll deal with that when I get home. So I woke up from my impromptu nap thinking first that it was 2 am. Then thinking it was 8:30 am (in which case I was going to be late to work). Then I realized it was 8:30 PM. Dumb. It's hard to tell when it's only dark from the hours of 9 PM to 4 AM. Shahar had called me (what woke me up) and so I called her back. She and Pratik were going to be home in 15 minutes and we were going out. Not a question. A statement. Not that it really takes any more than that to convince me. So I washed up, got dressed, and met them downstairs in Pratiks room. Still kinda tipsy...or I guess just groggy. Tired. I finished off the Malibu that I had bought for this past weekend with my sister (I know. Me drinking Malibu and coke? What is wrong with the world? I hate chick drinks). Then I had a glass of Shahar's wine. Then we headed out. The Crew: Pratik, Juan, Maggie, Erin, Shahar, and me.
We decided to hit up Stanhope again. It's good on a Thursday night. We get good service cause they know me and Shahar. And I now manage free tequila shots there. What's not to love? We went, picked up a couple stragglers along the way (Jay and Drew) and started - continued - to drink. More Strongbow. More Tequila. I think I tried to ask Tony at one point why all the tequila was free. He just waved me off. Ok then. We just kept on keeping on. When they finally told us to either get out or prepare for a night of afterhours drinking (Tony has been trying to get us to stay for ages) we finally headed home. I was well drunk by this point and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. So I got in bed, took Pratik with me, and cuddled him. The thing I love about Pratik...or I guess one of the many things I love about him is that he doesn't treat me like a child when I'm drunk or like I am someone to "deal" with. He instead engages in intelligent conversations with me. Hahaha. We talked about a couple prevalent political issues regarding Europe and the part of London we are currently living in before I passed out. This was a Thursday. This is how most of my weekdays have gone. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up or if I would ever survive like this in the US. But I guess when in London, do as the Londoners do. I would feel bad, but my boss has come to work hungover many a time. I'm off to visit my favorite bartenders once again, but stories of this weekend will hopefully follow shortly. But one phrase pretty much sums it up:
De la Satan.
Radhi
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