beer bonging

A brief return to my early-20s on Monday night (or at least it would have been if I'd been rather more adventurous when I was in my early-20s). Was shagged after taking D to the airport at 5am and consequently ready to sleep at 9pm. Gathered enough energy to walk down to a bar/restaurant for one quiet beer with N (visiting on his way home from Tibet) because it was his last night and he justifiably wanted to step out. Bumped into a few people I knew and a second wind hit me. Ended up beer bonging (first time ever and cringingly trés frat-house...only 2 bottles, but 2 bottles in 7.5 seconds was enough to have some effect) and stayed out (including something that passed for dancing) till almost 4am. Tues was a public holiday, thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster, but I felt like ratshit (to invoke a term I’ve not used since grade 8) when I woke up at 10am. I had a reasonably big Saturday night too. I think N departed thinking I live a far more exciting life – filled with wine, women, and song – than is anywhere near the case. I am, of course, happy for him to spread this idea around back home provided I’m not expected to live up to it when I return.