Trash the Shit out of Me

I always thought dress-up parties were lame. That was, until Darmstadt. Perhaps it's because of one of the follow:

• The town is so small that there's just nothing better to do;
• It's an excuse to go shopping, not that a girl ever really needs an excuse;
• Appearance account for little here. Basically, you can be the worst dressed and the coolest kid on the block at the same time; or
• In conclusion I am lame.

Either way, it's TRES fun and Saturday night was to be no exception. Leute, wilkommen to Erin's Eurotrash Party!

So sexy it hurts

Eurotrash: A human sub-phylum characterised by it's apparent affluence, worldliness, social affectation and addiction to fashion. Males are characterised by a semi-slovenly appearance including half-shaven faces greasy hair, rib-hugging shirts, tight jeans and loafers worn without socks. Women are easily distinguished by anorexia, over-bleached hair, plastic jewellery and surgery (particularly breast-enlargement) and their attachment to the male species. Both sexes greet each other with "air kisses", immediately speak of their recent Paris, Rome or Majorca trip, and exhibit a world-weariness and pained sense of irony.

Social affectation at its best?

What foul outfit did I put together?

• A 9 Euro boned, corset micro dress with frills;
• Gold and pearl necklace inclusive of a large clock and tassels. Got to have the tassels;
• Leopard print sunglasses that slutted its way around the party;
• Colourful candy-stripped bitchin' heels;
• Teased up quiff which died into a flat heaps soon enough;
• Blue eyeshadow and layers and layers (..and layers) of makeup.

Fierce! Just like everyone else's outfits actually. I was in love with the metres of leopard print material, and most of all, Lobo's Michelangelo jocks. How funny that people can recognise David by his male anatomy, right?

Only great minds can afford a simple style

Erin had rented out a bar and decked it out in party deco, all inclusive of "penis balloons". The night was doubly penetrated by Birthdays (tisk). It happened to also be Guiga's Birthday so the excuse to get loose was legitimised.

..and you smell like one too!

Erin had decided to provide jelly shots - always lethal - and a bucket of sweet tea which took us all on a massive sugar high. Oh, and I have no doubt now that it contained litres and litres of alcohol in it. Everyone was wasted! Not me though, remember that alcohol reduction plan I told you about? Still in Place. Stickin' to it! I'm so proud of me.

Live for today, party for tonight!

After dancing in 15cm heels til 5am in the morning, I was kaputt. Need to release feet from shoes. Need bed. Need sleep.

Now, the following sentence may just be the best thing in this whole entire world: I bid farewell to all and walked just - wait for it - 30 metres (!!!) to the comfort of my room. Amazeballs.

What a trashtastic night!