Ask most people in their mid 20's about this kind of behaviour and they'll tell you it's excellent form for a Friday night. Only, it's Tuesday and this kind of carry on is fast becoming a feature of my life.
Something has happened to my cocktail shaker. I used to use it to make ironically retro drinks. Mix up a few Rob Roys... Maybe a Gimlet or two... Now though, it's been sterilised.
You know the guy that threw up on me earlier? That's my son. He's 10 days old. He does it a lot. I don't take it personally though. He throws up on everyone. It's still weird that I have a son. I mean, I know who I am and I'm pretty well acquainted with what I have and when I checked the list 2 weeks ago, he wasn't on it. I have a job and a Pug and a liking for Turkish delight. I have a French Bulldog and a 1979 Datsun named Zee. I have a short attention span and a pure and loyal love of swearing. And now I have a son. I don't know if this changes everything or nothing about me. I still have all the things I had before but now I have extra things like a scar that stretches the whole way across my lower stomach and the most incredible responsibility I could ever imagine.
Something has happened to my cocktail shaker. It's been conscripted into the formula production line. This thing was designed for a good time. It was designed to get you liquored up and dancing and now look at it. It's in a saucepan on the stove immersed in water at a constant rolling boil. It's got 12 scoops of formula and 600ml of cooled down boiled water in it. It used to make dirty martinis and grown men cry.
Something has happened to my cocktail shaker. I never thought that this is what was meant for it. How could I have? But now that its here, it kind of works.
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