Sigh

It was just one of those ludicrously social weeks that beforehand makes you think 'Fuck, I'm popular and super and I bet most people want to be me' but by the end you can only semi formulate thoughts, such is your exhaustion, and those thoughts go something along the lines of 'I hate everyone, why must they bother me when I am quite clearly a recluse'.

I had an ace week. Am just suffering the exhaustion of the social butterfly. A not particularly dignified social butterfly. I have flitted. And lolled. Swilled. Scoffed. Put on about 20 kilos in the space of three hours (Korean place - I just ate and ate and ate and could have had more but I was concerned about vomitting). Oh, and I got new knickers. Can never have enough of those.

Sooo, after the PNGHS slumber party extravaganza of last Saturday, there was Kelby on Sunday, being all cute and Kelby-like, and then the fecking radness that is Battlestar Sunday. And then Andrew's birthday on Monday, which ended up with Sara, Mark, Stu, Luke and I experiencing fine dining Flat Awesome stylez - fush'n'chups'n'whiskey and X Men.

Tuesday was more Battlestar than you can shake a stick at. I'm not sure why you'd want to, anyway. Wednesday was the meeting of the classics nerds, and I made them, nay, forced them to come to quiz night, where after a bit of a dodgy start, we managed to come second again. AGAIN. Second is so last year.

Thursday was Jess. I was already a spot tired but I made the effort and went to dinner after we hugged and kissed each other in a thoroughly dubious manner, as befits women who admit that if only they were both gay they would totally rock out as a couple. I saw a Charlie. Met some other people, including Jessa's 18-year-old cousin who, it transpires, is in 7th form and was drinking on a school night. I was shocked. Even more so when he told Jess and I that one of his friends lost his virginity to a 32-year-old mum recently, and that most young men totally lust after older women. Jess and I looked at each other and made a date to loiter outside Wellington College the next day. Had to renege on that when remembered that I'd be working. Because that's what adults do. Dragged an unsuspecting Richard back to my place and Jess and I plied him with scotch and carrot cake and demanded he tell us filthy stories. Staggered to bed at 2am, having done the mildly drunk maths and realised that I'd get at least 4 hours' sleep and why would I need any more than that to handle a day working for the government? Also, they just extended my contract so it's probably about time I let them experience hungover Penelope.

Woke up not hungover. But so very, very tired. Jess went to bed with all her clothes on. I at least managed to put on PJs and knee socks. This was not my best look.

Friday I had a bizzare conversation with workmate about a paperclip.

Friday night I ate a lot of Korean with Duncan. Demanded to be allowed to pay as have been given money for this working lark and I felt like frittering it all away. Unfortunately, once I'd convinced the restaurant staff to ignore Duncan's attempts to pay for half, it transpired that they don't take credit card ... which was all I had. Duncan and his EFTPOS card to the rescue. Was a spot embarrassing. We waddled back to mine and made Oren's night by watching Battlestar. Duncan fell asleep. He does not get a gold star.

And tonight it's Will and Sarah's housewarming. With Singstar. I am not a fan of Singstar. I know, I adore karaoke, but for some obscure reason that a psychologist would no doubt ascertain is due to my inability to jump out of a tree into the dam that one time when my little sister totally showed me up by doing it effortlessly ... digression and anyway, I just find it not conducive to me enjoying parties. I am a party pooper. But I rather like Will and Sarah and I want to see their new place because I am nosy so I will go and eat all the chips and sit in the corner and do my best with polite conversation with strangers. I really am spectacularly bad at polite conversation. It's so boring. And then I can't resist saying something awful and if people react well, then I like them. If they don't, I go home and make voodoo dolls of them and they start to suffer from horrendous ailments like piles.