Hunter would be proud

Jesus Christ, what a night. Hunter S. Thompson would be proud. Well... or at least he'd dig it. While we didn't exactly engage a multi-drug orgy (well) or wake up in a flooded room with a Godzilla tail attached (thank f*ck for that), it was pretty epic in terms of smashed decadence, and general student excess. I believe over the course of the night, probably over 60 or 70 people came through the house, we most certainly had at least 40 people in the house at once (based on my estimate early-ish in the evening, while I was still capable of counting to 10 or more). Highlights of the evening involved being tackled by physical-chemists and duct-taped to the guard rail of our staircase and having to escape at the cost of great epilation-style pain, being shot at with Liam's BB shotgun, shooting Mike with it (and missing), drinking champagne at midnight with Paul (whose birthday it was, as well... he came over with all his friends) in Jez's room, seeing how many people would fit into mine, climbing up into those crazy little alcoves above our stairs and being too drunk to get down (but managing somehow), hugging loads of people, vowing to walk to the park an watch the sunrise with a J and some beer, then deciding to go to bed early for the good of humanity, and finally, sleeping until 2 o'clock and waking up feeling fine (funny how that happens when you commit the most unhealthy excesses, eh?).

It's been a good party. Quite a good party indeed (to mimic Inspector Fowler)! Alas I must return to my academic (and other) duties. Quite a harsh week ahead, probably going to be very stressful, as my curricular and extra-curricular workload are particularly heavy these next 10 days. And on that note, I think I'll make the wide decision of hitting the hay, so as to get my usual 6½ hours of sleep per day. Toodles!