Tuesday, 5 January 2010

#3 You may call me 'Aunt Vicky'.

Last night, I got rather drunk. Not drunk enough to make a complete tit out of myself, but drunk enough to wake up and have no motivation whatsoever to get out of bed.

I had the second day skiing blues, where my legs ached, and ached, and ached. Also, the visibility on the slopes was so poor. The clouds had rolled in, blocking any chance of sun, and causing a blizzard. The ‘white out’ meant that I may have been skiing down the piste, gone right into a lump of powder, used the snow to take off one of my skis and then had a quick rest on the snow. I can understand how this would have looked like I fell over to a passer by, but I can assure you it was all intentional.

After skiing, I decided that I would pick Ella up from her club, my mother, however, left without me to get her. This meant that, much to my enjoyment, instead of walking on the road, that went downhill and had lots of curves in (much like a snake), I took a shortcut which consisted of sliding down the hills, which were fresh with powder due to the massive snow dump, dodging trees and rocks as I went. We then played in the snow, building a snowman, making snow angels and again, having a snowball fight in which I was victorious.

This evening we ate, drank and chatted; nothing too exciting. There is a pub crawl on tonight, but I’m the only one who wants to go, and Daddy has the money. Thus, I am in my room, watching The Parent Trap (Lindsay Lohan) which is a spectacular film, and if you haven’t already. then see it. It will make your life that bit better. “Hello, pet. You may call me ‘Aunt Vicky’!” Epic.

Wipeout Count: 1

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