Amy Meets America: Home Sweet Home

Woah.  Well, I’m back – much lighter in the wallet but much, much richer nonetheless.   Oh, too cheesy?  Sorry, I’ll stop.

The last couple of days in America were a whirlwind of travel, crab, and copious amounts of alcohol.  Rickhouse in San Francisco make a damn fine Old Fashioned.  They come with complementary hangovers, too – so you get plenty of bang for your buck.

We ate and drank a lot.

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And – a fact that I’m not proud of – my last day in America was spent extremely hungover, gorging on a Big Mac (the ultimate hangover cure), and incorrectly referring to Alcatraz as “Alakazam” and “Azkaban“.  After the boozy night prior, I was unable to actually make it to the ferry out to Alcatraz.  This makes me (and my $50 pre-paid ticket) mighty sad.

I’ve been home for a couple of days now and the last month (and limited sleep on the plane) is catching up with me.  No run yet, but I’ve managed to go out for every meal and hang out with friends at the beach on a very sunny day here in Wellington.

That, I think, is the epitome of success. Or maybe tied for first place with a nap. IMG_1998Work tomorrow!

Long Overdue

Sorry all, it’s been a week since I last updated – not like me at all!

A lot’s been happening here, but all will be back on track soon – but until then (and because I’m too lazy to write a proper post), here’s some bullet points to help fill some of those gaps.

  • Alcohol.  There has been a lot.  But today’s been a day of (much needed) sobriety.
  • The Boyfriend’s now The Flatmate until he finds another flat.
  • Which means that the trip we had planned for the end of the year is now off.
  • So I’m going to rock on over for a whole month in the US instead.
  • The trip is going to be awesome (more to come).
  • I haven’t been keeping up with my running.  This gives me a sad face.  I will not reach my goal of 100km by 17 October.  See bullet points 1 & 2, above (I’ve been lazy).
  • However, 100km in one month is still a very achievable goal.  That I will achieve.  So my one month starts from midnight tonight (1 October – 31 October).  Eat dirt, running shoes!
  • I’ve spent the afternoon making my team mates mini bacon & egg pies for our celebratory morning tea tomorrow.  5 years old tomorrow!  (It’s an accountant joke).
  • Aaaaaaaaaand falling down stairs gives carpet burn, apparently.  So I’ve been walking around for the last day with some funky red-coloured elbows.  Don’t be jealous.  (Thankfully this had nothing to do with the first bullet point.  Or the second).

Watch out for a proper post tomorrow!

All Dressed Up

Right-oh!  I’m all dressed up to head out of the house and to a friend’s engagement party (again with the question - when did we get so old?!).  Got the pretty new clothes – ones I would have never worn six months ago, including the skinny jeans I bought a couple of weeks ago.   Got the red bull vodka – in a wine glass to appear classy.  And I’ve got the Chanel No.5 (like a good girl should).

The one thing I don’t have?  A warm jacket fitting of the occasion.  Or, a nice, warm, jacket that fits and I can wear into the city on such a cold night.  Because it’s cold.  Not lose-a-limb cold, because we don’t get that here, but it’s cold cold.  Like purple fingers cold.  And I think I’ll probably venture out in a (thick-ish) red cotton coat I bought for the Wellington summer.   Oh boy.

It doesn’t snow in Wellington.  Well, it did last year.  But that was the exception (and no one was able to handle it).

It should snow in Wellington.
Why?  My alcohol blanket’s no where warm enough for this, and I may as well get cute pictures.  (Snow!)

There’s No Place Like Home

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I don’t drink. I don’t not drink. It’s probably better to say that I don’t drink often. Not to get drunk.

So, with this (and the walk tomorrow) in mind, I went along to a co-worker’s leaving dinner intending to leave around midnight…

…And stumbled out of my taxi about 5am with the taste of butterscotch schnapps at the back of my throat.

Not my finest moment.

Turns out today was a bit of a waste of a Saturday. I fell out of bed about dinner time and have now settled in for an evening of Game of Thrones before an early night. Possibly still a little drunk, 15 hours on.

So please excuse the mindless post.
But tell me, when did I get so old?