Six new comics, by the way.
So Sunday night, Tanja's set to meet up with her friend Ros for drinks and dinner. We think, hey, James is nearby, let's give him a ring. We do, he's into it, and Catherine comes along too. Before we leave, we see it's bucketing down rain, so I take the two bottles of wine we're going to bring for pizza in my backpack to avoid having to come back to the flat. We meet up, have four or so cocktails, change tables a bit, discuss gym memberships and garnishes, before Catherine leaves, and we head off for pizza. We're five steps out the door and Tanja says "Do you have your backpack?" so I go back in.
I can't find it. I get mad. Kick the wall, storm to the front bar, and start interrogating the bartender. He gives me a coaster with a number on it and says to call the next day. Since we're down two bottles of wine, my sunglasses (in what I consider another example of the universe taking my sunnies away from me constantly), and a lovely fountain pen Tanja got me for the first birthday I celebrated here. Bugger.
Off we go to supper, with James, Tanja and Ros each buying another bottle of wine. We demolish two pizzas and the three bottles, Ros leaves, and James, Tanja, and I stagger back here to watch Empire Records. Tanja staggers off to bed, and James adopts the couch, and proceeds to laugh at the jokes, only stopping every so often to go "Wow, Liv Tyler's so hot." Tanja calls me in, and she's been sick, poor dear. I help her clean up, and James heads off.
So.
The next day, after work, I swing by the Bank Hotel, and ask if anyone turned a bag in yesterday with a Canadian flag on it. "Yes, it's right here." Everything inside still there. Feel the wrath of Even-Steven!
Also, I have plans to make a wicked tequila punch for Craig's birthday festivities.
That's all. Go about your business.
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