* my friend Aston is moving to Melbourne today (oh GOD, toDAY!) to live with his girlfriend so his farewell was on Friday night

* work had friday night Social Club drinks which I went to straight after work (despite my seriously queasy tummy and aching head - I am stoic in the pursuit of alcohol). I had 3 drinks

* went to Sal's, a bar I'm not parTICularly into but which some of the workies love, and had a Bloody Mary and a White Cosmo straight after each other

* Louise, my favourite workie, got really narky with me over the football team I go for, saying that I need to use my imagination and not just follow the crowd (I have barracked for my team forEVER, I don't follow the crowd. The crowd doesn't like my team). I didn't feel like listening to crap so I told the workies I'd meet up with them later and went to Aston's farewell

* at Aston's I found SHEDLOADS of people I'd gone to school with but not seen for years and years and I drank shots and lots of wine and got a little, actually a lot, drunk

* I went to Syrup to find the workies but instead found Deo's best mate Georgio, one of the under-the-door cretins. Under the influence of the wine and the unhappiness I've had for weeks about this whole thing, I burst into tears and cried and cried and cried and told him that I wanted the video deleted. He was sympathetic and rubbed my back and looked after me, but he flat-out refused to do anything about the video

* ran into Andrew, an extremely good-looking guy from work, who was as under the influence as I was. We proceeded to dance for the next 2 hours till he decided he was so drunk he needed to go home. He asked me to go with him. I declined (stupid girl!)

* back in Syrup, noticed that Louise and Fran (our 2IC, who's actually basically our age) were dancing with Deo and Georgio. I did NOT want to join in so I went off by myself...

... and that's the last thing I remember until I decided it was time to go home and I put myself in a taxi...

... which is the last thing I remember until the taxi driver SHOOK me awake at the bottom of my street. I paid him, walked up the street, stopping to throw up in the gutter (oh I know)...

... and then I woke up at 11am, fully clothed (but in bed, at least), with the heater BLARING and my stomach churning and my head pounding

No. More. Big. Nights. Out.

For at least a fortnight, anyway