Sleep Over

These days it’s all about Pillow Talk, and I ain’t talking Zayn. Although as I steal the title to his song, may I just say it’s very good (it sounds just the same as One Direction – ed). He’s riding The Weeknd’s wave, but I would too because The Weeknd isn’t shit. He’s not riding it full on, but it has that vibe. Anyway nice one Zayn.

The pillow talk to which I refer was between me and my friend. We decided that instead of being hungry tigers on Friday night like everyone else we would actually just stay in! We both just had to pay ridiculously eye watering amounts of tax, we both have issues, and we are also both single so who the fck felt like going out anyway?

At 5pm we were in matching leisurewear propped up and surrounded by all manner of alcohol the like of which you would find in a local corner shop, and we talked at each other for about three hours straight.

If I was to say things went from 0 to 100 real quick, I would not be lying. One minute it was all civilised, two girls chatting, drinking red wine at a reasonable pace and laughing a lot.

When do you think it will degenerate?

And then suddenly:

Pizza was ordered


Speech became slurred

Inappropriate texts were sent


Britney was put on


JD was opened


Clothes were taken off

Pillow fight

Videos were made

Other people turned up


Snapchats were made

Fur coats and just knickers were worn (and filmed)

Drinks were thrown

Gymnastics were performed

Tears came

Before we swiftly passed out…

I don’t know how it turned into what it turned into, but when we were faced with a trail of evidence on our mobile phones our memory blanks were swiftly filled.

Naturally as morning arrived we both woke up feeling like hell and I was unable to perform any of the simple tasks I had set myself for that one day per week I keep free for such mundane responsibilities.

It’s Great When You Lay Straight

We laid straight until around 3pm when the fairy lights had to be turned on, and I knew by then the gym wouldn’t be getting a visit. We asked ourselves in this situation, what can you really do? I’ll tell you. Drink.

I must have put my pink silk pyjamas on at around 1am Friday night, and I didn’t remove them again until about 10:30 pm on Sunday. If I’d been alone I would assume I was suffering from severe depression and I’d seek an intense therapy course starting immediately. But I wasn’t alone, I was with a fellow LostItGirl so somehow this makes it seem alright. Although I’m aware it probably isn’t.

That being said, I have no boy gossip or any kind of social gossip for you as I was holed up (in all be it rather chic surroundings, but holed up nonetheless).