the heat, drunk scene, melissa mccarthy, sandra bullock, cops, night out, drinking

As long as you are fun

My philosophy of life is quite simple, you can be irresponsible, feckless, drunk, forgetful, and none of it matters as long as you are fun. Fun is a gift that you give to other people, it takes energy and imagination and an ability to exist in the moment. It is quicksilver and ephemeral and yet produces very tangible results. It requires you to rise above that crippling self-consciousness that is the blight of human consciousness, you know, the thing that stops you singing, dancing, wearing fancy dress, telling an inappropriate joke, the thing that stops you making yourself and other people happy in a temporary, insignificant way, but in a way that if you do it enough, becomes significant. So really today I want to say one thing to you: It doesn’t matter what you do, just make sure you are FUN.

On Saturday night I went to a hen party. Like any sane human being I hate hen parties, so I drank a lot of red wine. So much that I had to make up a lie about my babysitter having norovirus as an excuse for bunking off the karaoke. I got a bus home, which I had to get off two stops early so I could vomit. My copy of the New Yorker had slipped from my weak fingers onto the pavement and I ended up puking all over David Remnick’s interview with Barack Obama. This made a depressing sight. A sort of indictment of my behaviour. The next morning I woke up and was unable to remember much about the evening except for one moment (excepting vomit), the moment when I had persuaded a girl who I didn’t know to video another girl I didn’t know spraying tequila onto my cleavage with a plastic penis syringe. I smiled. The evening wasn’t a total disaster, at least I had been fun. Some of you may say I am shallow. Water off a fun duck’s back, guys.

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