Hammered, Tanked, Wasted, Plastered, Canned, Sloshed, Housed, Juiced Up & Crocked

Dear reader, I know you hold me up as a paragon of virtue and decorum. I know that what you are about to read will destroy your faith in humankind, ie. me. But I must be honest with you, reader, otherwise this entire blog is just a pointless exercise in onanism for me.
And none of us want that.
So, I'll level with you, reader, treat you like an adult and tell you things that I hope you're mature enough to understand.
I got absolutely wasted last night.

Not quite as wasted as this.

I wouldn't normally use 'wasted' when I can still, with relative confidence, remember what happened the previous night. And I can. Every. Sordid. Detail.
Allow me to set the scene; it's Milly's birthday today and she decided to host a party in her parents' house, about an hour and a half away from Yarra, as Kookaburra flies. I drove up with Aspen, Manthy, Jason and Smeargle, and we were all pretty tightly packed into the back (Manthy gets carsick and so got to sit in the front.)
It was hot and uncomfortable, but I was excited and we passed the time playing twenty questions (we all got stumped over Michael Caine, who, did you know, has won an oscar? Smeargle did.)

Suave mother, ain't he?

Anyway, we arrive, after a minor drama over a tollroad and the accidental taking thereof, and pile into 'the unit' (a second building built on the main land of Milly's house) where the party was to take place. We settled in, watched a little TV, snooped about the house and then the business of presents began. I read Milly  the poem I wrote (an acrostic), Aspen and Smeargle gave her drawings, Logan got her a USB, Alec got her Fifty Shades of Grey and Cass got her a potato. I believe it was around this time I took my first drink; I'd purchased some vodka with cranberry (40%) and Manthy was kind enough to give me some raspberryade with which to to mix it.

Above: my bloodstream, last night.

I was drunk within minutes, and I don't mean tipsy, I mean drunk. There's a video of me singing along to Nelly Furtado's I'm like a bird from about twenty minutes after this drink. I was the first one drunk and I don;'t know why cos it took me about two hours to get drunk after TWWOO, and a lot more vodka (I remember I was halfway through the bottle when it was pointed out I was even heavier on my feet than normal- I'd had maybe a quarter of a bottle when I was three sheets to the wind last night.)

Can you tell?

All I could do was be thankful that I was happy, TWWOO drunk Rory and not miserable, Bedlam drunk Rory. I participated in all the games, danced, sang, made people laugh and was generally agreed to be the life and soul of the party; some people, notably Adrian with whom I duetted on Circle of Life (lifting Jason as an impromptu Simba) and Cee Lo Green.

I see you driving 'round town with the girl I love!

Sadly, it wasn't all sweetness and light- I managed to smash a glass with my bare hands (but didn't cut myself)- just by banging on the side of it, in the manner of a speech. Luckily, I wasn't the only one and I did learn my lesson and managed to avoid punching the TV placed precariously against the dancing wall. I did start to sober up shortly after this incident, and decided I didn't want to face the rest of the party sober, knowing what I'd done (it was about ten o'clock at this point); so, I deliberately re-intoxicated myself.

Really didn't take that long.

This might have been a bad thing to do, having already broken something in my drunken state, but I find it hard to regret, since I went right back to singing, dancing and generally living it large.

Large and in charge.

I remember drunk pass the parcel, with questions instead of prizes, and how I fashioned a hat and gloves out of the discarded newspaper (after building myself a nest).

Made from 100% recycled materials.

During this game, Ellie said she wanted me as her child; I was also declared most likely to appear of Sixty Minutes (a news talk show) and go to jail, so I had to do two dares: one tell a story about someone in the room (I chose to make Martin a fairy princess of Oz) and do an interpretive dance entitled 'the death of the butterfly', which I'm really hoping wasn't filmed. This was filmed, for some reason:

There was a Milly trivia round, where I insisted we be called 'the Periwinkles', still not sure why, pizza, which I devoured and with which I managed to avoid a hangover (in the stead of weetabix, see) and a deep, meaningful conversation with Logan and Jason where I opened up about my depression last summer.
All in all a really enjoyable night in a part of Australia I hadn't seen before (Check out 'The Mornington Peninsula' page for photos taken from my walk there this morning, WARNING: there are a lot of photos).