I organised an evening out at the Fly By night club with two of Scarab's friends on Saturday night. Before we went out, the three of us sat in R's kitchen drinking very fruity cosmopolitans. She was making huge jugs of them, and we each got 2 glasses per jug. We were half way through the second jug and making plenty of civilised conversation when I asked R, "How much vodka are you putting in each jug?"
"About three quarters of a bottle."
We decided to have a third jug. Because that's the kind of mature women we are.
When we got to the Fly By Night the band was in full swing. There were a couple of people I knew from work there. At some stage in the evening - don't ask me to keep track of these things - one of the guys in the band asked the audience, "Are there any children here tonight?"
"Yeeeaaaaaah!" I shrieked.
"Oh. That voice didn't sound very childish."
"I have the heart of a child," I yelled back.
Not long after that we decided to leave. Or were we asked to leave? It's all a bit of a blur.
When I told New Girl the story the next day, she naturally found it rather amusing.
"Well, you can expect to hear that whispered in the corridors at work this week. 'She has the heart of a child, you know.' - 'Yes, she never did get that transplant she needed.'"