Last weekend I went to an 18th birthday party. I cannot tell you how old it made me feel. It was officially fancy dress (although of course, we left that to the yoot) - and there really is nothing more entertaining than the site of nubile 18 year old girls dressed as bumblebees and Britney Spears (pre-breakdown) attempting to inconspicuously sneak out for cigarettes. When you're wearing big wings and/or carrying a giant plastic python it's kinda hard to sneak anywhere.
Still, overall the results were impressive. The boys were in heaven (MC was very constrained until he saw Catwoman in skintight PVC. To be fair even I could barely control myself).
Interestingly quite a few of the, um, larger contingent went as cats too - they must have been gutted. 'It's so they can wear black,' observed a very wise Astarael. And as for the size 14 Amy Winehouse - that was pure genius. Especially a few hours later once all the eyeliner had made a bid for freedom.
Oh - and dilemma of the day: what's worse, finding out that your boyfriend is in prison or thinking that you've been dumped because you haven't heard from them? This does not relate to MC who is a wonderfully law abiding citizen, of course. But it is, in all seriousness, a dilemma for someone I know. Sometimes I think I must lead a very sheltered life.