I’m at work. I’m sleepy. I went to see Dirty Dancing on stage last night, and I think the resulting oestrogen surge has depleted what little energy I have anyway. Plus, I got six hours sleep, then got up and went to the gym this morning. I’m very sleepy, and very, very bored.

Me: “Amy (my immediate boss). I’m tired and unproductive. Can I go home?”

Amy: “Well, if that were a qualification, I’d have gone home about two hours ago...”
Sarah (our freelancer): “But Jennie, you’re the one who can drink 88 pints and come in the next morning, looking fresh as a daisy. So I think you’ve built a rod for your own back there.”

Well, that’s just .... unfair. Clearly I cannot drink 88 pints in one night, and if I did, I certainly wouldn’t look as fresh as a daisy. I’d look like the contents of a body bag. I swear, you go out and drink *** shots of gin (cumulatively – it was a lot of gin and tonics), and come into work the next day not half-dead – although, unsurprisingly, I think I may have still been drunk) – and you never live it down!

And the reason the amount of shots looks like *** is in case my mother reads this, and decides to stage an intervention.

Anyway...

Amy: “Ye-es – you and your alcoholic tendencies...”

Me: <whine!> “I didn’t even drink anything last night, and you’re all laying into me!”

Amy: “You went and saw Dirty Dancing SOBER?”

Me: “Ye-es .... It was at 7:30!”

Amy: “Oh. I was drunk when I saw it.”

See what I’m surrounded by?! I don’t think I can quite claim the crown for the biggest lush in the department just yet!

And I bet Amy saw a matinee as well...