bowlgate

In an act of rebellion, I stole something this weekend. It would've been a traffic cone, my friend pointed out, but my bag was too small to fit it in.

So. Plan worked.

Generally when you go out on a Friday with a plan to get shitfaced, you win.

Wine has no chance when you're out to get shit done, shitfaced.

I went out with the lads on Friday, as the Brit headed up to Manchester for a stag do. I thought, after weeks of packing, painting, stressing no end about work, quitting smoking and generally feeling depressed, thought it was time to go out and...let my hair down. Into a bottle of wine.

A Welshman, Saffa, Aussie, Scotsman, American walk into a bar. And that's pretty much all I remember from Friday night.

I remember a lot of dick talk - I was with a bunch of boys from work - and the subject of pooh came up, obviously, as that's what guys do - pooh and talk about it - but generally I don't remember much.

I work up the next morning, with a thud in my skull and a bowl in my handbag.

I stole something. It's been years since I klepto'ed shit from a bar as a result of being hammered. And i gotta say, it feels pretty good.

To be 30. And with bowl. I didn't buy.

My friends are having babies; I'm stealing bowls from burger houses.

OK. I am so irresponsible whimsical and care free.

Yes. The bowl was from a Gourmet Burger Kitchen. How we had a chance to smash a burger in between pub hopping at London Bridge is beyond me.

'Twas a fantastic night.

Better still, the Brit got back (with a bruise on his leg from falling over in a club in Manchester, so it's not just me), and we ended up fighting over a Dwell catalogue.

We were walking to our local pub to download the latest episode of The Apprentice because we haven't got internet at home yet, so thought we'd go down the pub for a pint, with my laptop, and download a chunk of TV on the free Wifi.

Then, once done, leave.

While waiting, we had this conversation:

Peas: Oh wait, is that the new Dwell catalogue?

Brit: Yes. It's the Late Spring edition.

Peas: Can I read it please?

Brit: No. It's mine.

Peas: No it's not.

Brit: Yes it is.

Peas: Hey, gimme that.

Brit: You have one in your hands. Hang on, that's the Summer Edition one - yours is newer!

Peas: Let's swap.

Brit: No. This is mine.

[Try to swipe it away]

Brit: You're such a dick!

Peas: You are! Here have this one!

Brit: No.

-------------------

And so it went.

This is us. Redecorating. And fighting over junk mail catalogues.

This is what people do when they quit smoking. And have nothing better to do.

Be warned.