Day Twenty-Six: Wine not?

Happy St Patricks Day!

I’m desperados to finish this as quickly as possible, as I want to go and get ready to go out for St Patricks day.  I don’t want to be the only one absinthe from the bar when the fun starts.  Rosie and I are currently mulling over whether to wear heals of flats.  I’ve got some brandy new heels but I’m worried they’ll hurt.  It’s a whiskey business wearing heels if you’re going out early, as once the high spirits have subsided it’s easy to start wineing about the pain.  It’s impossible to rum very fast, and the lager the heels the lager the pain.  I think the decider will be how stumpy my legs look when I wear flats.  And before you ask, yes it is a perry important decision, and whatever I choose ale probably regret it. I’m the champagne of moaning as it is, and don’t want to make friend’s sangria than necessary.  They’ll make sakecastic comments about me; ginerally they’ll be jokey shots, but then someone will go too far and I’ll schnapp, throw a tantrum and go home.  Ah, we’ll probably just wear heels, it’s not going tequilas.


A man walked into a bar with a lump of asphalt under one arm and said to the bartender – A whisky please, and one for the road


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