Just Too Much Information

It all started innocently enough. Three girls, came for tea. Coogee Girl, Queen Bea and ClareBear. Pretzel Coated Chicken Schnitzel and salad was created by DrummerBoy and the Fringelet, followed by Chocolate Lava pudding and all I had to do was wash up. The idea, have a few bevvys before descending on The Mean Fiddler for a big night out. Three bottles of Champagne and half a bottle of vodka later between the three of them (they are all 23 after all) the giggling girties were picked up by the Clone and ferried off to eat men for dessert.

I settled into attempting to build a wordpress blog which I may or may not move to depending upon whether I can 'get it' over the weekend and retired at about 11:30. Such is the excitement of my Friday nights!

At 1:10 get a message from ClareBear - Coogee girl has gone missing with all their purses and ID. ClareBear of course has left her phone charging on the windowsill and is borrowing Clone's. Fair nuf. I call Coogee girl on Clare's phone at home and a man answers . . . she eventually gets on the phone and is decidedly messy. "Clare's trying to find you, go back into the Fiddler and connect with her." Coogee girl is far from home and has connected with someone after spewing on her new black boots. She's outside getting some fresh air. Fifteen minutes later, another message - Coogee Girl has still not made her presence known. I'm back on the phone bog eyed and getting a bit cranky at this stage . . . man answers . . .Coogee Girl is now in someone's car . . . still messy. "Get back into the Fiddler, you're an idiot getting into someone's car when you don't even know them. ClareBear's waiting by the front door." This went on for about 45 minutes, toing and froing with ClareBear and Coogee Girl using me as an intemediary to try to connect with each other when they're both at the same bloody venue. It's a pub not a small country! Clare messaging me,me messaging Coogee girl . . .By this morning it all became clear.

Coogee Girl had fast tracked her vodka, got sick, met a bloke, had a spew, got really messy and got in his car and was about to willingly go home not realising that Dad was the designated driver! Dad, naturally thinking she's a slurry, threw her out of the car and escorted her back to the Fiddler. Young man got a clip around the ear and was taken home by Dad. Young man calls next morning - it's on, they're connecting up next week. Fine first impression that must have made!

Queen Bea was having a lovely time, dancing with randoms and pashing a black man. Messy but in control

ClareBear's found a 30 year old martial arts expert who likes wakeboarding and has a tattoo of a dragon on his back and Japanese symbols on his arm. Turns out he speaks Japanese too and so the bonding begins with a little tongue bushido.

The Clone (designated driver) decides she's going to leave her car at the Fiddler and go home with her new best friend and leaves the remaining pisspots to fend for themselves.

Scenario: Three drunken party pashers falling down the front steps, men hanging off them and one with spew on her boots wondering how they're going to get home. A cab isn't an option because two of them are tight arses saving for the world trip of a lifetime. And after being woken up to be the go-between, there's no way I'm going to rescue their slurry asses. Enter TheAthlete, lovely friend of Adam's who is stone cold sober makes a special trip to pick them up, drops them home then goes back to bed! (He's secretely in love with Queen Bea).

This morning it's all hits and giggles. All three are blissfully unaware of the possible danger in their actions and whilst downing copious amounts of hangover cure (red cordial) and eating greasy Macdonalds breakfasts relive the night that was.

Coogee Girl is very apologetic for keeping me up in to the wee small hours but doesn't seem contrite about getting into strange man's car in a state of total inebriation. She's a sweet kid but boy, bound in cotton wool. Queen Bea has not only pashed the black man and given him her number (probably a Sudanese trolley boy) but also found another to tongue wrestle with before departing and now has a crush on the Athlete but couldn't do anything about it last night due to her dire need for a sausage roll at 2am - something about grease lining the stomach. Very good look NOT! So he dropped her without so much as a peck on the cheek! (He'll be here tonight so we'll see how she fares then)

ClareBear is rung by the 30 year old tatooed-kung-fu-wakeboarder at 11.00am on the dot as promised. He's going to help his granny in the garden but he'll call later. "Awwwwws" all round.

Sometimes, having your children and their friends confide their escapades to you is well . . . frankly too much information. I've been on sexual overload this week with fully fledged explanations of terms such as party pashers, bullets, turkey slapping and tea bagging . . and found out that my son no longer uses condoms since his relationship is 'serious'.

Just how much can a koala bear?