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My Cousin’s Hen’s Night

16 December 2006

My darling cousin Jez, is getting married early next year. Her bridesmaids organised a pub crawl through the city for her hen’s night.

She lives out of town, and apparently in the previous week, she had a hen’s night with her workmates – during which, numerous unspeakable events surrounding a phallic shaped pinata occurred.

Tonight’s hen’s night was supposed to be a lot more respectable… in a pub-crawling kind of way.

We went to 6 pubs, and it was so much fun. Lots of dancing, drinking, taking photos and silly antics. Lots of guys hoping to get lucky. Lots of police checking for IDs. Lots of grumpy bouncers made happy by a bit of arm stroking. Respectable no?

I didn’t drink as much as the rest. I honestly couldn’t keep up with THE YOUNG GIRLS THESE DAYS! A glass of champagne every 10 minutes? I would be dancing on the table one minute, then asleep in my own puke, after crying in a dark corner the next.

No, I prefer to enjoy my night out with well-spaced drinks, lots of water, food, and not standing directly in front of the loud speakers.

We had a trippy bus take us from pub to pub. And a cute bus driver whose name I forgot.

By the end of the night, I was stone cold sober. We were at a cool pub, with great music and lots of hotties! I could’ve kept dancing all night! But everyone was really drunk, they kept getting into trouble and doing stupid things – like crashing into people and smashing glasses on the floor. Glass. Feet. Blood. Ugh. Myself and my sister, who was also a designated driver [read: tea-tottling] that night, drove everyone home by 2am. Pffft! These young girls have no stamina!




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