Griddle Me This

It was Canada's birthday last Saturday (my flatmate, not the country itself) and thus we partied as usual, in a fashion that Lionel Richie himself would have undoubtedly blessed. There were a number of conversations during the course of the night which have stuck in my brain, so I'll do my best to recount them here.

Please bear in mind that by this point in the evening, we had partaken of "brah-bombs" which were basically Jaegerbombs but in small wine glasses (the only clean receptacles left at this point) and so we cannot be entirely judged on the below. In addition, more than one person present was wearing an animal onesie.

JohnBoy: So, there's a guy who walks around Edinburgh dressed as a giraffe.

I confess that this may not have been the start of this conversation but it was certainly the point at which I started paying attention. I believe that it might have been suggested that the tallest person in the room should be wearing a giraffe onesie in order to fit in with the rest.

Alana: What, like... he's wearing a giraffe print shirt or something?

JohnBoy: No, actually dressed as a giraffe. Like, a giraffe costume. Er. His face is in the neck and the giraffe head is sort of... up there (gesturing vaguely above his own head). And he wheels a little suitcase around behind him.

Alana: Huh. I see a guy sometimes - nice briefcase, expensive dress shoes, and a Pikachu onesie.

Me: (chomping through my second toasted crumpet, because Jaeger makes me crave snacks) I am clearly working in the wrong end of town.

JohnBoy: You've got to wonder if they change for work into business clothes. And if they do, why not wait til they get home to change back into the onesies/costumes?

Me: (through a mouthful of crumpet) I really want an otter onesie. With a clam upon the tummy!

JohnBoy: With a what?

Alana: A clam. On her tummy.

Me: (spraying crumbs everywhere) A CLAM!

JohnBoy: ...I see.

Another friend entered the kitchen at this point and innocently headed towards the sink. In hindsight, this next remark might have been a little over-aggressive, and various bystanders have assured me that she did not even see me standing there, hunched over the toaster like the Gollum of baked goods.

Me: (laser-eyes of death, like those statues in the Neverending Story) HEY. YOU. STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY CRUMPETS.

I'm assured that a protective barrier was formed at that point to shield me and my ever-increasing crumpet rage from the rest of the party. Luckily (for everyone else) this worked until I ran out of crumpets, at which point I simply left the building to go to another birthday and forgot about all of this entirely until the Honey Brahdger reminded me a couple of days later. This in itself is unusual, since the Honey Brahdger rarely remembers anything while drunk, therefore I can only assume that Fate required this blog post to be written, and who am I to argue (or even casually debate) with Fate?

Now please excuse me. I have crumpets to attend to.