Anticipation At 4PM: THE COUNTDOWN HAS BEGUN. How is it Friday already? Where did the week go? How have I not done half the things I should’ve? *Manically sends out 5 administrative emails in a minute and feels like I’MFREAKINGAMAZING.* Whatever—I’ll finish anything outstanding on Saturday. What should I drink tonight? Wine to begin, gin martinis later. Booya. I have that cayute bodycon. Done and done.
Bouncing Off The Walls At 6PM: It’s here!!!! Oh weekend, I’ve missed you. This is going to be great. It’s going to go on FOREVA. Can I get a last-minute blow-dry appointment? Need my hair extra bouncy tonight. Note to self: remember to put in contacts and hurriedly tweeze eyebrows. They are a disaster. Is it totally inappropriate to invite EVERYONE in the office to my drinks? Guys, let’s be together always. Okaypeace.
Booty-Shaking Time 6-8PM: In my room/around my apartment. Spotify playlist set to Rap Caviar and yea bish, Kendrick Lamar got it good. I’m only on my second glass of wine and I feel like a champion. Has my tolerance increased? *High-fives mirror* Food? Oh maybe. I’ll just chew on this carrot. I’m not really that hungry anyway. Had a massive rice packet for lunch.
Park Street Mews/41 Sugar/Major Colombo Nightspot at 9PM: Well, this is buzzing. How trendy am I? Keep eyes down like a celebrity avoiding the paps (paparazzi, not smears). Be cool. Smile in a reserved manner. Who the eff is that drunkie in the corner. SO amateur. People don’t know how to keep it together. Oh hey [random acquaintance]. You look lovely. Let’s meet soon. Okay now leave me alone. Bartender, can I get a gin martini please?
Major Nightclub 11 30PM: F.M.L. I’m wearing my contacts right? Things are blurry AF. Remember to call optician. I mean is there like one club in Colombo? Hello sir, may I get in? No? Screw you.
Major Nightclub 12 30AM Onwards: Right. Made it through the packed elevator and entryway that looked like it crossed the path of a herd migration. Was rubbed all over with 50 types of sweat and 2 cigarette burns (Score, not bad right?). Toes screaming in agony but cramping in fear at the thought of shoes being removed. One circle done. Back to the elevator. GIMME FRESH AIR. Spots another acquaintance desperately trying to make it—try to tell her, girl no. Go back to the bar and have another cocktail. But then spots a three-wheeler. UNCLE. Only thing on mind: Pizza.
Saturday, 6AM: Oh. What is this light. Where’s the water. WHERE’S THE WATER. Those work emails? I will die if I have to look through them. My life is over.
Happy Friday, Cosmo bunnies.
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