They tried to make me go to rehab...
...and I drank myself into oblivion instead.
My dear friend Isabelle had a housewarming party this past Saturday, and it was what the Brits call a "fancy dress" party. Personally, when I hear fancy dress it strikes fear into my heart because I don't have any fancy dresses and JESUS that means I would probably have to shave my legs or something. And wear nylons.
I hate nylons.
But actually, Fancy Dress = Costume Party, which = MUCHO GRANDE FUN.
The theme of said party was "heroes" (not the show) and my hero, naturally, is a crackhead, scabby, emaciated, incredibly talented singer with a giant beehive and an incarcerated husband.
Behold the glory that is me as Amy Winehouse.
I'm not sure if halfway during the evening I decided that I really was Amy Winehouse or if the beehive made me feel like I could handle more alcohol than usual that night...but I definitely was, um, fucked up to say the least. I started out pulling my best "hammered Wino face" in pictures at the beginning of the night, and then as things progressed, I'm pretty sure wasn't acting.
No, no, no...
Comments
I guess that's good.
Plan B was to find a kid with scabies to cuddle, but couldn't find one in time.
There's always Halloween...
[this is so funny] O.O the last pic is the funniest though lol! super awesome costume miss!