Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

No. 3 has just brought to bed, it's 9.05pm and it's a fine time for a 7 year old to be put away for the night.  He's not imperssed though, he reckons he's not tired.  The fact that he is near hysterical proves he is.  I am shattered and, like no. 3, am determined to stay up for as long as I can.  I've got six episodes of Newsroom to watch and I want to watch them now - I love that Sorkin dialogue.  

Thing is, if I stay up late tonight, on top of being up so late last night it was this morning. I'm going to be like a weasel,

Dammit, I can hear two wesels up there now.  Nos. 2 and 3 giving each other a hard time.  No. 3 can't stop crying he's so whacked and no. 2 is so tired and no. 3's crying is pushing him over the edge.  

Last night I went out to a friend's daughter's 21st party.  I've gone to a few of these lately, makes a change from the 40th parties I usually attend I guess.  This 21st was quite rowdy and it was nothing to do with the youngeters.  There were several cakers there, 6 including the girl's mammy, and WOW.  Who'd have thought that cakers could be so disruptive and funny.  In no particular order:

K. thinking she was shuffling but, really, she was doing the funky chicken.

Having a competition to see who had the best 'suck'.  We attached two long 'joke' straws together and ... sucked.  Trying to get a mouthful of gank red wine up through a metre and a bit of plastic the width of a pencil can make you very light headed.  Perhaps that's why K. fell over.  Hmmm?

Smoking. Oh jesus,, I hate smoking.  So, why oh why, am I always so up for one when a little bit drunk?  An interesting conversation about the drugs we may/or may not have tried in our youth.

B. fell over, she was in her stockinged feet - high heels are always such a good idea at the start of the night, and K used her like a mop and dragged her all over the dancefloor.

We then, unbeknownst to ourselves, told two bar lads about the sadness of tits as you get older.  Droooooooooooooooooping etc.  How sometimes you fear, if it gets much worse, you may end up tucking them into your socks.

Ugh.

Then it was time to go. We knew none of the songs and the songs we did know had all been deejaaaayed to a furious number of beats and ... yeah, not a good look for women over 20.  Isn't it shite how, in your head, you're still roughly 20 but in reality you look every minute of your 39 years and, exactly today, 8 months.

D and G had legged it earlier as had J and J (swines took too many incriminating photos and video, shite).

My favourite bit of the entire night was K insisting that myself and G leave.  Immediately.  We didn't have to wait until she got a taxi and we were to go home and stop being silly.  Took a minute or two to convince her we didn't care that much f