Note to self: When out with Lena... remember to pack a spare pair of knickers? don't do drugs? make her drink it before you do? remind yourself you're not gay?
Sigh...
Thankfully, the UDI (Unidentified Drunken Injury) count is not that high and the largest bruise is about the size of a 50cent coin on my upper outer thigh. So I've evaded the battered housewife glares this time around.
UN-thankfully, there is a stream of photographic evidence that spills the beans on our random acts of rambunctious behaviour. Must remind myself to hunt... and destroy.
Found a bit of Luck that might help for next time though. After all, what goes on tour, stays on tour... right?
***
A terrible discovery:
My favourite t-shirt is ruined. Beach-ruined. Who should I hold responsible for this tragedy? Sigh...
The others must be getting sick of my acting out. I know I really should get a grip and pull myself together... but really, i'm having far too much fun. I don't want to have to stop before the party ends.
It really is a tragedy about my shirt though. It was my discreet-but-oh-so-special RaW t-shirt. Designed it myself... can't get that replaced now can I? The answer is no. That last part was rhetorical.
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