I remember the moment I knew I was over being the party girl.
I had woken up at 2am with the canvas print from my bedroom wall lying on top of me (apparently the room was spinning so much that the print was freaking me out). I stumbled across the room to my handbag and in it I found a taxi receipt, an empty wine glass, two cold cheeseburgers and about 300 moist towelettes from KFC.
I tried to recall the night before. I remembered walking through Circular Quay with my friend, stopping strangers, shaking their hands and shouting ‘CONGRATULATIONS ON LIFE!’.
Yep, I was that girl.
The annoying drunk person who thinks they’re the life of the party, when they’re really the butt of the joke.