On show at the Gallery

So this little blog has a nasty ending, you may need a bucket....i sure did!

The night started off with afternoon drinks at a friends house, which he had just recently moved into and its apparent to me now, I probably should've had more to eat at that little gathering. I looked at the time and I got a move on towards home so I could continue the warm up drinks and glam up for the evening ahead. All the OHA regulars were meeting the birthday boy in town at a swanky new bar and we were prepared for anything and everything. The man who the night was dedicated to looked positively HOT and I had to pull him to the side and issue a warning for him to tone it down. With a hot blonde quiff and skinny tie like his, the OHA would be issued a warrant and on our tail in a new york minute.
The venue was amazing and if Blair Waldorf was on my speed dial, she would be meeting me here with Chuck Bass any second. It was a rooftop bar with palm trees, bright perspex stools, outdoor heaters for that sudden spring breeze, a swish little bar in the corner and a large concrete block in the middle of the rooftop, which doubled as a table. When I went to sit at that table with a cocktail in hand, I looked down and it gave a view to the second floor where the restaurant was below. Obviously, the place to be was up on the rooftop bar...... this meant you were closer to heaven!


I decided my drink of choice for the night would be Blue Alize, which I believe is a blend of premium French vodka, cognac, passionfruit, cherry, ginger and natural exotic fruit juices accompanied nicely with a slash of lime on top. Yes, it was true, i had started a love affair with this new bevvy and it would become a like a hooker on Kings Cross.....cute and giggly when she's going down, but could prove to be a waste of money and leave you feeling dirty after.

So as the bar announced, it was happy hour 2 for 1 cocktails and this is where the seams were ripped apart. One member was making sexual gestures towards a wall painting, another member was getting third degree burns form standing to close to the floor heaters and not registering how hot they were and  the birthday boy was helplessly wandering up to every table and asking "is this my drink?? is this my drink??". The Absinthe cocktails were getting everyone hallucinating and allowing it to be acceptable to yell hello to girls walking across the street, three levels below us. They rudely ignored my friend which turned his happy, hippy wave into a stern middle finger matched by his grumpy face. Oh cheer up buttercups, we will now move on to our old faithful club where we assumed there would be extra backup on call for our arrival. 

Names on the door, thank you very much, and FOC (free of charge) entry was granted and we were now ticking along well with good tunes, the smell of fog machines and serious glances from the opposite sexes. As we were walking down to the metal stairway to the dance floor, many men had stopped us to assure us of how fine we were looking at that point and we were graced with our first OHA officer. He was screaming like a fishwife saying "MOVE IN OR MOVE OUT" and I was concerned that he had just taken three layers of skin of my inner ear and damaged my sexy in the process.

The bass in the club was so strong it was like having a free massage when you sat down and if you liked pretending you had a starring role in the movie Avatar, you would've loved the exotic smoke machine that created a softer lighting on some of the 'underworld' talent that was there that night.

My taste buds were living the dream, but the walls of my stomach felt like Bear Grylls was trekking around trying to abseil down them! I tried to do the fresh air trick out in the beer garden, but this wasn't helping. I think the word I was trying to find was taxi and I was really quick about it, so I grabbed my bestie and we were off on our journey towards home. Ten points to the taxi driver who turned down his music so he could eavesdrop on our interesting conversation recapping the night and then the moment of doom came, when we had arrived at the destination and I knew I would have to somehow get some blood pumping into my burning feet and get out of the cab.

Whilst I was sitting in the living room, Bear was still on his mountain hike and venturing towards the opening in my mouth. I made a bolt for the toilet door, which was closing fast and decided my quicker option would be to turn around and run for the front door. Sadly, time was cut shorter and I ended up catching my previous blue alize cocktails (mixed with fries and aioli) in my hand that was over my mouth. The poor lawn suffered from little landmines everywhere and this symbolised to me, maybe I should've picked up the water earlier that night. Although it tasted bitter and vile, my oral artwork that i will now title 'blue fries', looked quite pretty on the front lawn and there was many encore showings later on into that morning.

Good Grief Candy! xoxo