Pictures paint a thousand words

My mouth felt like I'd been licking the inside of an ash tray yesterday (I don't smoke), right up until I met up with the girls from the Abel Tasman at a "house-cooling" at CD's inner city apartment and drank a couple of beers. If only I'd known that was what my body had been hankering for. I wasn't hungover exactly, tequila doesn't make me feel spewey. Was just dehydrated and tired from a crappy sleep dominated by agave-induced acid-trip like dreams. So I stayed in my pjs until 5.

As a result I haven't been feeling particularly prosaic this weekend and thought I'd let the pics do the talking. But there are some things I'd like to add.

1. I was IDed on my 25th birthday. And when I produced my drivers licence with a flourish and told her it was my 25th birthday she said something along the lines of, "oh aren't you a tiny wee thing". I suppose this should be comforting.

2. After listening to him croon in the Chapel of love all night I have discovered I quite like The King. There is a consensus among all three girls in the flat that the poster will stay. The boy was not consulted.

3. LF is one of the most resourceful people I know. She has this uncanny knack whereby I will say "I wish..... something something" and she will make it happen. Case in point. "I wish we had some helium balloons". Next minute there are balloons with brightly coloured tails floating at ceiling level above Elvis' head. I later discovered they were cellotaped in place. She also made the cake. Chocolate (as if there is anything else) with boysenberries and cherry brandy in the centre. I ate a door stop sized piece at some point after sobriety and I had parted ways. I'm pretty sure it was amazing...

4. People love dressing up if you make it mandatory. I wasn't anticipating the calibre of the costumes or the thought that would be invested in the theatrical element of the evening. Stand-out performances and high points in no particular order:

• SB's (very sexy) russian spy. How many times can you string together a sentence containing the word "vawdka"? I also loved that she got this maniacal gleam in her eye when she was ahead at the table, and when she let me in on the intrigue and deception by asking me to sneak her a few extra chips;
  
• LF's upper class air of propriety and sensitivity (very out of character (; ) Can't remember who I heard her character telling off. But it wasn't me for a change. That pearl anklet gets brownie points;
  
• Lady Penelope Winfield's fascination with the contents of our knife block. And that drawl "Mena, daaaarling," and walking home in those heels. I wonder if she found her seventh husband/victim at the bottom of that bottle of vodka;
• CW whom aptly accessorised her costume by drinking straight from the wine bottle through out the evening. (That was part of the act right?);
  
• JC squandering police resources by taking surveillance photos of his suave self in the mirror instead of the suspects;
  
• MS demanding respect from all the Bitches and Hos in his 'hood. I have the bruise to prove it;
• MB, aka Danny LeGrand, magnate of a multi-million dollar porn empire. Respect for risking the new suit for as long as he did. And keeping a (semi) straight face when I offered myself for his next film if he got me high;
• JS who professed to be there to speak for the dead and unravel murder mysteries, but I liked the twist with him being a gambling addict unable to leave the table for a large part of the evening. Added a nice tragic pathos to the hero of CSI Wellington.
  
• SM, no costume, but livened the party with a comprehensive portrayal of intense intoxication. Thank god the cake came out when it did.....;
• EC, for fake tanning her face and nothing else for the cause. Dedication personified;
• SL who managed to make even trailer trash life look glamourous and upbeat. I would never have guessed what you do for a living in real life, or that you speak French and German listening to that annoying (Sydney?) twang;
• LM and his heartbreaking account of his dream of being recognised as an actor, while being forced to wait tables to survive. I hope they pay well for making you wear that uniform (;
• PT for the abrasive and dry wit. Bet that was really hard for you to play. In all fairness, the rest of the baddies of the evening weren't a patch on you. (; And you puffed on that pipe very convincingly;
• The number of scandalously short skirts;
• The number of firearms;
• The randoms and people who came straight from something else not in costume thereby making the rest of us look awesome;
• And of course, the prize for the best performance went to Kate Coscarelli (pictured above with Danny LeGrand), who arrived with a copy of her latest international best-selling novel to autograph for the birthday girl. And by association her husband for not being fazed by her avid appreciation of all the young men in the room. She stayed in character the entire evening, even when gunshots were fired in her ear and a stray olive hit her in the eyeball.
• Me, I struggled a bit with the desperate druggie thing. JB made me a little plastic bundle of icing sugar and sourced someone to try and teach me the talk, but I found the constant sniffing and stealing peoples jewels to fund my habit and throwing myself at the wealthy men (and women) in the room to get me a bump/fix (whatever) a little anti social. Perhaps I was doing better than I thought though, cause at some foggy stage in the evening one of the randoms approached me and said he'd heard I was the person to ask for a joint and made a little toking gesture. I hope he wasn't just being cute about my character, cause I looked at him like he was nuts and said, no, no I'm not, and then walked off.

I hope I have already said it - but thank you guys. Not just for the presents, and for helping with the set up, and the clean up, and for bringing food, and for the effort that went in to the costumes. Thanks for the other 364 days of the year as well, for being such crazy, fantastic friends! Aroha nui.