Meant to drink to the point where I would be fun and outgoing.

Have (am?) instead drunk to the point where I try to stuff plastic frogs into Young Matthew's shoes. Will she ever learn?

P.S. HA HA HA HA HA to all of the funny things that happened tonight that I can't exactly go posting on the internet. Best. SI Party. Ever.

I am irritable and I hate everyone and everything. I'm tired, I don't want to deal with anyone or their problems, I just want everyone to see things my way and shut up about it already. I want people to stop taking me for granted and to occasionally care about how I feel, and if that means I have to be the squeaky wheel, I'm gonna. And I'm thirsty.

The only plausible solution: I am in a state of perma-hangover from having two drinks on Friday night. I will never escape and I will hate you all FOREVER!!!!1*

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* Unshifted exclamation mark (1) in place because it annoys you all!

We went to an SI end-of-semester party at Leopold Brothers tonight. I had both a Hairy Navel and Sex on the Beach (thank you, Mah 501 Group Mate and myself) and proceeded to propose to Allison and the Urstodian. Alas, Allison turned me down because I was not rich enough and didn't have a nice car, and the Urstodian and I sadly broke up after a whirlwind two-minute engagement.

Ah, drunkenness and debauchery.

It takes some wine, but I can sing! I am a karaoke shark! Long live Five-Layer, the Karaoke Revolution queen! I finally beat that damn Himbo, Princess Lock, at something! How much wine did I have, anyway?

More editing bright and early tomorrow - oh boy!

Yarrrrrr. This be a shout-out to all my homies at the Bentley, who want to appear in my blog. Much alcohol was drunk over the course of this evening, and so was Robin.

Is it strange to go out drinking with your parents? Some would say so, it would seem. I like alliteration. Good night.

I wrote in the cheese story that I refused my host family's efforts to get me drunk, but I realize that it isn't quite true. When I had Christmas Eve lunch with them two years ago, we had Kir Royales (champagne and crème de cassis) as an apéritif. I've never particularly liked champagne, so I don't drink much of it. With crème de cassis, however, the champagne was delicious. What I didn't realize, having avoided it before, is that champagne hits me a lot harder than regular wine does. My host family saw that I liked it and kept refilling my glass. After a few lovely, fruity, bubbly glasses, I was pretty fruity and bubbly myself.

Kir royales! They were so tasty and fruity! Not acidic and dry and bitter like *real* wine! Yum! So many bubbles! Everyone was talking to me! And I could talk back, because I spoke French so well! I think I was flirting with cousin Mathieu! Seemed like flirting to me, anyway! Then all of the males in the family drove me to the airport! Sweet! I was so attractive to all of the males that they all wanted to be around me! Yippee! Young! Old! Who cares! They carried my bags for me! Wasn't that nice!

I somehow managed to stumble, giggling, onto the train and sober up by the time I got to Paris.

Tengo problemas con la sangria por que es muy deliciosa. I went to Dominick's for the first time tonight (I only found out where it is this week) and they kept refilling my jar-glass. Then I stumbled around Ann Arbor a lot and laughed more than was necessary. Going to bed with smash's Burn It CD now. Night night.

Here's a beautiful Fathers' Day story for you:

When my friend Robin gets drunk, she likes to go to the supermarket. On Friday night, we played Trivial Pursuit as a drinking game, so Cheryl - who drank less and has a better tolerance than poor Robin and myself - had to drive us to Meijers. The height of our trip to the supermarket was the bakery. As we passed boxes of Fathers' Day cakes, we saw plenty of "DAD I LOVE YOU" cakes, then caught sight of one with "POP YOUR TOPS" written on it.

We stood, confused, in front of the cake for a goodly while, wondering if it was some kind of obscene stripper cake that had gotten mixed in with the Fathers' Day ones. Finally, it occurred to one of us that what they'd really meant to write was "POP, YOU'RE TOPS". This, of course, made us mad, and in our drunken state, wanted someone to pay for this horrible grammatical error. This would have been a much better story if we'd found someone, but I think we ended up getting distracted by something shiny and weren't drunk enough to be confrontational by the time we walked by the cake again on the way out.

On the way back from New York, Bob, Cheryl, Robin and I went wine-tasting in Virginia. First, we went to Chrysalis Vineyards, where we had a little dribble of eight wines, including the rather delicious Viognier. I skipped and smiled and sang and danced and twirled and giggled to the car, and we drove to Piedmont Vineyards, passing an ostrich farm on the way. At Piedmont, we tried another six or so wines, and by the end it became evident that 100-pound Sarah had not eaten lunch. Luckily Robin was just as pompette joyeuse as I was, so we whispered-very-loudly to each other and everything was enormously funny.

We went out for a beer tonight after I arrived. Thankfully Christianna knows what I like and ordered for me, because I am in The Land of Beer, and I am a stranger in the aforementioned land. The place we went had a selection of one hundred different beers. I will abstain, however, from commenting on their musical atmosphere, as the songs over the course of the evening included "Love Cats".

We went out with Christianna's friends, all of whom speak impeccable English. Damned polyglot Belgians. When they weren't speaking English, they would throw in phrases of Flemish, the Belgian dialect of Dutch. Dutch and German are cousins, but clearly Dutch got all the good genes because it is infinitely more attractive than its relative.

We went to a party tonight at Nelson's apartment in Clermont-Ferrand. I danced rather timidly and clumsily to Latin dance music, then with reckless abandon to song after song from the 50s.

I did a tequila shot, out of curiosity, then did another because someone put a lemon wedge and a cup in my hands and poured salt on me. My overall impression of tequila shots is that the salt and lemon are very nice and the whole thing would be better without the tequila.

Once it got to 6am, it no longer seemed worth it to try to go to sleep, so I am trying to keep conscious until I can go home.

I am in my Spanish class. Considering I am here completely by choice, I should be paying attention. But I went to the staff room during the break and it was Sandrine's 30th birthday, and someone handed me a plastic cup, so I drank the contents, which turned out to be champagne. I am a wee bit happy.

Here we are in Royston, Hertsfordshire. Or maybe it's Cambridgeshire. I never know where I am around here. Uncle Reg lives in a small village in one county but his address is in the other.

Tonight we went to a quiz night sponsored by the Royston Photographic Society. I had a lot of fun and two glasses of wine, as Yiz ordered me a new one even before I'd finished the first. The quiz was good and challenging, especially for Americans with no idea who Huey Green is, let alone what his connection is to the musical clue. And for the general knowledge of readers, I will share the very useful bits of trivia that the three types of swan in Britain are the Hooper, Buick and Mute, that London trains to Sheffield leave from St Pancras station, and that Robbie Williams comes from Stoke-on-Trent (also home to many brands of china). We ended up 5th out of 8, mostly due to bad luck and using our double-points joker on the wrong round.

I decided that since there was so much alcohol available this weekend, I was going to make a point of trying everything in the chalet, just so I would know what it tastes like. I'm always nervous about ordering alcohol in bars if I've never tried it, because I still have to pay for it even if it's undrinkable.

So last night, I had rum and Coke, three glasses of white wine, whisky, Malibu and pineapple juice, vermouth, a screwdriver, and two mugs of mulled wine. Renata and Jennifer were surprised to see how well I held all of that alcohol, but it's true that I managed to spread the taste-testing efforts out over the whole evening and ate and drank other things while I was at it. They said that they couldn't tell much of a difference from usual. I, unlike certain Nelson people who Nelson will not Nelson be named, did not climb on the table and do a striptease, then end the evening falling on my head and trying to throw myself into the fireplace.

On a fait la fête hier soir chez les Moulinoises. There are seven assistantes in Moulins, the prefecture of the Allier, about 45 minutes from Vichy. They were having a party, so we piled into Johanna's car (Stefan's orange bagnole is en panne in Poitiers at the moment) and drove off to their apartment, which is in the premier lycée de France, the lucky ducks.

Food, wine, beer and coca poured in abundance, then we played a game of Mafia full of suicide, German conspiracy, and Renata and Becky refusing to kill me no matter how much I begged. Everyone was asking themselves at this point exactly how much I'd had to drink and while it's true that I'd polished off quite a few glasses, they were all full of Coke and jus d'abricot. I'm just odd like that.

After everyone had had enough of Mafia, we played a drinking game and I drank two entire glasses of white wine during the course of the game, but afterwards felt less silly than when I'd been bourrée on Coke and juice.

Suddenly we realized it was already 3am - when we'd thought it was around midnight - so we got back into the car and came back to Vichy and into bed by 4.

Last night I went out with the other Srah and her fellow Boston University program participants. First, we went to see L'Auberge espagnole, which I recommend highly to anyone who anyone who has studied, is studying, or will study abroad. It's a very accurate portrayal of the situation. It takes place in Barcelona, with students from all over Europe studying there as part of the Erasmus program (a European university exchange program).

After the movie, we went to Les Trois Canards, a very crowded bar downtown. I got rather tipsy (to the point where if I turned my head, it took a while for my vision to catch up) from one kir, then we wandered around for a while, looking for Club Vertigo. We finally gave up and went home to sleep (yay).

After the movie, we went to Les Trois Canards, a very crowded bar downtown. I got rather tipsy (to the point where if I turned my head, it took a while for my vision to catch up) from one kir, then we wandered around for a while, looking for Club Vertigo. We finally gave up and went home to sleep (yay).

I'm very upset because I went to Big Ten party store yesterday to buy some alcohol for someone for xmas and I didn't get carded. Me! This is upsetting to me because:

(a) A young-looking person was able to buy alcohol and not get carded and

(b) Said young-looking person was me.

I was quite looking forward to being carded for the first time. I think it's scary that someone as young-looking as me was able to buy alcohol. Just to prove that I wasn't having an old-looking day, I asked the waitress (Ginger) at Applebee's how old she thought I was and she said 16.

OH MY GOD, that dessert was lovely. Hhhhhhhhhhhhh... <-- shudders of joy

It had quite a layer of Kahlua in it, though. I think little Srah-can't-hold-her-liquor has gotten a little goofy from the stuff that the brownies were soaked in. Shall I ansher the phone like thish?

Maybe I'm just naturally goofy. It's so hard to tell with me. It would be really sad and pathetic if that was enough to get me tipsy.

Hello. I saw Amelie for the fourth time and it was EVEN BETTER (if that's possible) the fourth time. Then we came home and hung out in the I-House lounge and had alcohol in a common area (very naughty). I had ONE Mike's Hard Lemonade and now I'm a widdle tipsy. I spoke franglais with Antoine and now I'm going to bed. Worry not, Boyfriend. I am just fine and made it back from Ann Arbor alive, I was just off getting tipsy with the native speakers and Duane. Ha ha! I think these socks make my feet a little numb or something. They're very soft. Happy December!

Went to Roommate's concert. Was v. good and surprisingly crowded. (Am writing in manner of B. Jones's diary because am rather tipsy in manner of B. Jones?...) Was very amusing - not in manner of Carl's concert - where during the songs I wished they'd get to the 'tween-song banter and during the banter I wished they'd get back to the songs. Both songs and banter v. enjoyable at On The Go concert. Had two spiced chai lattes. V. recommendable.

Met up with Jillian and Erin, who arrived late and only caught last song. Decided to go to Goodrich Halloween party. Had no futuristic costumes so dressed all in black so as to match. Were futuristic Charlie's Angels, apparently.

Went to Erin's, played with insane cat while she changed. They have a toilet seat lid-thingy and we don't. Wish we did.

Went to my house, drank most of a bottle of wine between the three of us while playing Buttmonkey. [Another advantage of lack of 19-year-old boyfriend - can law/rules-abidingly drink.] Changed into all-black. Were a bit tipsy - I had equivalent of about two glasses, probably.

Went to Jillian's - she changed, we chatted with Joanna, Colleen came over in her retro-futuristic silver/grey getup, we declared her Charlie.

Went to Goodrich. By the time we got there, things were going quite slowly, like I was watching everything through a strobe light. Danced danced danced danced danced. Was good. Danced in circle with the gals. Jillian and I thought about dancing with Finnish Kilt Boy, who was wearing a box, but he got away.

Saw Zac(h?) from tutorial.

Zac: Glad to see you here.
Me: Um... good to see you here too.
Zac: I live here.
Me: Oh, yeah, I know.

He bit Colleen's neck and freaked her out, but that was later. Danced danced danced. Lots of theatre people there - Jillian and I felt a bit left out. Went walking through house and lost Jillian. Danced danced danced, then decided we were tired and the vino was wearing off. Went searching for Jillian - found her having another drink in Steve Art Boy's room. Hmmm. Collected her and walked her home (she was quite loopy and giggly), then came home myself.

Now am in room with four other people and must prepare for bed. There are cartoons on the television. I hate Scooby Doo.