Of Full Moons and Pheromones

January 14, 2008 at 7:45 am (Uncategorized)

I went to a party on Saturday night. An old fashioned, honest to god house party. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a proper party… we’ve had and attended all sorts of gatherings, but this wasn’t that. It was a party. It was a party that went from the front room onto the stairwell and spilled out the back. People loaded their booze into tubs and Eskies and then drank whatever was to hand. We took a bottle of bubbly, an unopened bottle of Bombay Sapphire, tonic bottles and lime. And I think Llew managed to actually have a few gins before a party goer appeared in the doorway to the backyard swilling from the BS straight from the bottle…yes, we were at a real party.

I love the art of party talk, but I’m afraid I’m slightly out of practice. There’s nowhere else I can think of where it’s perfectly acceptable to stop talking mid-sentence, say hello to someone passing by, and start a new conversation with them, thus terminating the previous conversation without warning and without offence. It was a party, after all. And it’s the only time you can say “I’ll be right back” and not return without the other person thinking you’re a rude cow. Everyone understands you just bumped into someone else and got chatting. You wanted to come back. You tried.

And then there’s the pissed chick. There’s always at least one screamingly drunk girl fully engaged in the business of behaving in a way that’s going to make her criiiiiiinge for days to come. No party is complete without this cast member. She is the Gilligan of the island, the Alice of the Bunch, the Homer of the couch. Mercifully, on Saturday night the pissed chick was not me.

I have been the pissed chick plenty of times, and it ain’t pretty. I’ve just been consoling Saturday’s pissed chick with the firm knowledge that I cannot even enumerate the number of times I was the wretched fire-breathing dragon. I don’t know many women who can truthfully claim to never have embarrassed themselves whilst drunk at a party. Hands up, girls. Yes, that’s right, you at the back. You too. I can see you hiding. But it’s okay, there really is some safety to be had in these swollen numbers, or if not safety then a little bit of sisterly solidarity. Boy, could I commiserate with the pissed chick today.

Naturally she said things she’d prefer not to have said and things she doesn’t even mean. Naturally she made the evening a rather short one for her boyfriend. Naturally. Llew scoffs at this, but I believe full moons and menstrual cycles make women a little crazier than usual. I believe all women have a little madness within them, and is it any wonder since we have to contend with the men of this world, and I believe there are conditions in which this madness is enflamed. As I said to the pissed chick, booze just loves to take any stress in your life and stoke that fire until it becomes a big raging public inferno in the middle of the party’s dance floor.

Poor pissed chick. She’s been punishing herself for two days now, mortified by her behaviour and obsessing about the possible fallout with fellow party goers. Step right up if you’ve ever found yourself agonising in just this fashion after a train-wreck of a night in which you perhaps shouted something you should have kept to yourself or stumbled around a room you should have quietly, tactfully vacated hours before. Throw in a locked bathroom door and a frightening touch-up with a Kohl pencil and you’re talking about something a lot of girls can relate to. God yes, I’ve done it. And god yes, I’ve seen it. It’s how I know I’m at a proper party.



  1. two hands up said,

    am generally the pissed chick, or more so, the too hard too early and pass out anywhere type of chick. i love the pissed chick as it is a means of complete disregard to anything and everything and that is where your free spirit lies….hehehe – a well rehearsed argument….that i hold onto during those days after………..

    i actually read your blog in the slight fear that it may have centred on some slightly strange end of night behaviour – ouch my ass – but am glad you wrote a salute to the pissed chick as she deserves full recognition and a glowingm report card – loved it!

  2. doctordi said,

    And a glowing report card she shall have! Ah yes, the too hard too early is a well-documented sub-category of the pissed chick. A fully fledged pissed chick isn’t a quietly reposing dormouse a la your own kipping style, though, she has to really get a bit untidy. And in front of a lot of people.

    Hmm, the end of the end of the night behaviour wasn’t very scandalous! We just fell asleep waiting for our husbands to get their bonding over and done with. Prior to that, vis a vis your ass, at least you ARE actually married to the man who was spanking it!! Great party, two hands up – thanks! x

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