Once I got incredibly drunk in New York whilst on holiday with my best friend (he lives in London, I in Sydney, so it was quite the reunion). Anyway, we were both quite jet-lagged, and had been on the Sex and the City bus tour all day, drinking cosmos, as you do. This was followed by manhattans from 4pm with our older, richer friend who'd shouted this lavish and abundant cocktail hour (we were on a budget so had made the most of that). A few hours later we made it to Soho, already incredibly drunk, and went to Alan Cumming's "Club Cumming". It was fabulous and Alan himself was working the bar that night. It turned out was Ricki Lake's (remember her?) 50th birthday there that night as well, more celebs, and we were suddenly in the mix at her party. Anyway, the night went on, we kept on with cocktails despite being white wine drinkers, and in the end I face planted in front of Ricki and then threw up in front of Alan. My last memory of that evening was throwing up (for about the fifth time) out a cab window over Brooklyn bridge. I was so hungover the next day that I missed going to the MoMA. The shame of it still haunts me and I haven't touched bourbon, nor been nearly as pissed, since!
Once I got incredibly drunk in New York whilst on holiday with my best friend (he lives in London, I in Sydney, so it was quite the reunion). Anyway, we were both quite jet-lagged, and had been on the Sex and the City bus tour all day, drinking cosmos, as you do. This was followed by manhattans from 4pm with our older, richer friend who'd shouted this lavish and abundant cocktail hour (we were on a budget so had made the most of that). A few hours later we made it to Soho, already incredibly drunk, and went to Alan Cumming's "Club Cumming". It was fabulous and Alan himself was working the bar that night. It turned out was Ricki Lake's (remember her?) 50th birthday there that night as well, more celebs, and we were suddenly in the mix at her party. Anyway, the night went on, we kept on with cocktails despite being white wine drinkers, and in the end I face planted in front of Ricki and then threw up in front of Alan. My last memory of that evening was throwing up (for about the fifth time) out a cab window over Brooklyn bridge. I was so hungover the next day that I missed going to the MoMA. The shame of it still haunts me and I haven't touched bourbon, nor been nearly as pissed, since!
I find it pleasing that your producer has the same name as a famous actor. Very meta.
You made me cringe so hard 😂😂😂😂