Sunday, February 17, 2008

What Shall We Do With The Drunken Princesse?



Dodgy is a suitable word to describe the way I feel today. My entire body aches, my muscles hurt as if they’ve been subjected to an obscene amount of strenuous exercise and my stomach is having a bloody hard job holding onto the lukewarm tea I guzzled earlier in an attempt to re-hydrate myself.

Zannie and I went out last night for dinner and a few drinks at Ashton Lane in the west end of Glasgow. When I say a few drinks I do of course mean two cocktails each (a ‘Rainbow Kiss’ and a ‘Vanilla Skyy’, no ‘Slippery Nipple’s for me, thanks) that had some type of frog spawn scum floating on the surface, two Kir Royales each and a bottle of wine with dinner between us. Now, that sounds like not much compared to the average young woman about town in this day and age but when you consider how un-used to alcohol my body is then you will see that I did pretty well, n’est ce pas?

But yes, I do agree, I do deserve that hangover.

The pub we went to – aptly named ‘Vodka Wodka’ – was heaving full of young student types and had the best joie de vivre atmosphere. I was excited by it all, some would say childishly so, and was slightly hyper, laughing loudly, making enormous gestures with my hands when I spoke (I did end up spilling a Kir Royale all over Zannie’s boyfriend, Venzo and am still deeply embarrassed) and being a bit of a pest in general. I was a Motormouth Minnie, I spoke a mile a minute and I think, although I can’t be sure, that towards the end I was probably the only one talking and I didn’t even notice.

I came home to a silent house, the parents were asleep upstairs and the cat was stretched out on the sofa, as if he were expecting me. I locked the front door behind me before heading straight for the kitchen, bouncing off the walls a few times on the way. I seem to remember buttering two slices of brown bread, opening a packet of cheese & onion crisps (chips for American readers) and pouring them onto the bread before biting into my crisp sandwich and enjoying the contrasting texture of soft and crispy.

And then I walked away from the kitchen which was speckled with crumbs and smears of butter from my late night cuisine and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I lay on the bed and dialled FP's number, waking him from his peaceful slumber, although what the conversation entailed, I don’t have a scooby.

I awoke this morning, make-up smudged across my face and a face imprint on the pillow. My stomach lurched, the room spun and I thought, ah here now, if that’s not what you call a great night out then I don’t know what is!

17 comments:

T.D. Newton said...

That was Friday night for me, too. Too many shots of jagermeister (w/red bull) and Stoli-and-Tonics. I'll just say it did not end well, but I deserved how horrid I felt yesterday morning, and definitely fixed a manly breakfast to help me get back on my feet. I tried having a couple of beers with a friend yesterday evening and I think my stomach was still a bit sensitive because my mouth was telling me "this is not good." Or, perhaps it was the smoked/bbq ribs I was mooching at the time playing with my palate. Who knows.

Regardless of all of that, I'm glad you had a great time! What kind of wine did you have, by the way?

joy suzanne said...

Ooh, I,ve been known to eat a Dorito sandwich on buttered white bread... Nothing like it for absorbing the bad queasies.

Princesse Ecossaise said...

Why TD we had the cheapest wine on the menu of course! FP will not be impressed as he is definitely a wine lover (being French you're born a wine lover), but when you're penniless and jobless sometimes you just have to give in to those cheapie wine gremlins, I'm afraid.

I must say that was rather brave of you having a few beers last night. Normally I can't even allow myself to think about alcohol for at least 48 hours, never mind put it in my mouth and swallow! In fact you should have seen me with a bad case of the bokes* today when I was searching through google images looking for an appropriate picture of a cocktail for this post! Not good.

* the bokes - to boke is a delightful Scottish word meaning to gag

JS it's genius! Crisp butties are very much under-rated, perhaps we could start an appreciation society?

Ghosty said...

There's a bar in your town called "Vodka Wodka?" BWAHAHAHA!! Ooh, but stay away from mass amounts of the cheap wine, dear, that's likely what gave you the bang in the head the next morning. ... and chip sandwiches? Strange things you people eat, even for being drunk.

Jane said...

Sounds like a great night!!

Be warned much "grossness" follows...

But for our overseas cousins, please don't forget the sub-categories of boke...

To dry-boke: like you say, to gag, involuntarily, usually after the thought of alcohol, as in "it pure gie'd me the dry boke, so it did"

Wet-boke: to vomit slightly in your mouth. Sorry to be so yeuchy but it's an important point to grasp if you really want to understand Scottish culture properly! Oh deary me, the things I admit to knowing...

Not that the likes of Princesse and myself ever get to the undistinguished point of the wet-boke! Oh, I feel perfectly pukey just thinking about it all.

Princesse, I won't be offended if you don't publish this comment!

ColbyPants said...

ah, the good old days. . . ;-)

Lis of the North said...

Oh dear!
Hope you are no longer one of the living dead! I assume you went for the best-known hangover cure of all time? I tell ye, the people who make Irn Bru must thank their lucky stars we Scots have never learned to stop drinking more than we know we should. Their sales would plummet if the nation swore off the sauce!
xx

T.D. Newton said...

Well, not all "cheap" wine is cheap, especially by the bottle. It depends on a lot of factors.

I must be over my bokes because I had 2 beers last night and, while I did not chug them, I didn't die. I also had a pleasant glass of chianti with dinner.

Zhu said...

I'm not sure what we should do with a drunken Princess, but I do know what we should do with a drunken sailor. Email me if interested :D

Princesse Ecossaise said...

Ghosty; I know, the bar's name is rather...quaint. And indeed, I think the hangover came from mixing all that alcohol - the cheap wine, the cocktails which had rum and I think something else, Kir Royals with champagne and well...I can't really think of that anymore, it makes my head swim!

Jane; hahahaha I had totally forgotten about the wet and dry bokes! I'm going to make a point of using these in posts to come, SO GREAT! Don't you just love being Scottish!

Tom indeed the good old days but guess what! The good old days are coming back yeeeehaaaa! (not too often though because I'm not sure I can handle those types of hangovers every week. perhaps once a month of the good old days...)

TD no, you're correct. This cheap wine was French so FP would say that's better than Spanish or...ahem Californian. HAHAHAHA you know, when I received the email of this comment I couldn't stop laughing because you used 'the bokes'!!!! Classic!

Zhu, hmmm I am extremely intrigued!

Princesse Ecossaise said...

woops! sorry lis i didnt see you there! It's sadly true, if we Scots give up the booze Irn Bru are going to have to embark on a marketing ploy to get their sales back up. Well I don't suppose they worry about that too much because a) the Scots will never give up the sauce and b) they have the best adverts in the world (remember the hamster one? and the 'even though I used to be a maaaan' ad? simply pure amazing)

Lis of the North said...

They do indeed have the best ads. Tee hee. I also liked the snowman one they do for Christmas. "I'm falling through the air, I wonder where I'm going to land..."

T.D. Newton said...

Hey, Californian wine is good (though I can't vouch for it after it crosses the pond). I will agree, though, that there is nothing quite like sampling the wine in the country/state/winery that it comes from. I'm looking forward to doing that someday in Christendom.

busymomsjournal@gmail.com said...

Just found your blog...

I'm a 20-something American mom trapped in a 47-year old body. My 14 year old daughter plans to study fashion and go to live in Paris...one of our favorite European cities. She's taking French and has already surpassed my bad high school french, so hopefully we won't be typical ill-mannered Americans who expect Parisions to speak English... when we return this summer for the soldes!

Thanks for the vicarious reading...

Princesse Ecossaise said...

Hi busymom, thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read! Your 14 year old has big ambitions, I hope her dreams come true! Paris is a wonderful city, especially for fashionistas!

Zannie said...

Princesse, I must have the consitution of an ox (either that or I'm just too used to to the odd drinky winky) but I woke up fresh as a daisy the next day! We shall have to venture out again soon...thank you for your help today, was fun despite the rain! My blog seems to have fallen by the wayside, too much on my mind to write in a coherent manner! x

Princesse Ecossaise said...

Lol Zannie you are incredible, were you drinking coloured water?! Ahhh it was so funny though, just the best night I've had out in a long time. Another venture awaits us in the not so distant future, I'm quite sure of it!

Nae probs for the help it's all fun for me, love those dogs, even Stella hehehe!

have a grand weekend pet lamb, speak to you soon! xx