Hungover at julbord

Am not really sure of what time I came home after partying at Debaser, after pre-partying celebrating new magazine Fokus. Great evening I assure you but I was one tired Gonzalita tumbling over at home in the wee hours.
The day after was disaster. Barely managed to fix tasks supposed to be finished before the week end. I really should get some help for that time optimism of mine. It´s all but sane.

It didn´t help people said I looked great, I felt like five kinds of shit and only wanted to go home and tuck myself in. Fat chance. I was supposed to meet Mr Norway for julbord-dinner at 18. Great.

I usually enjoy getting ready to be picked up, you know; having a nice glass of wine, champagne or go with the season and have some glögg, dance around to my favourite party music while trying on outfits and putting make up on.
This time it was all but that. I had to use tons of eye drops to make my eyes at least look awake and shimmer to not look dull. Probably looked like a JLo wannabee that put her make up on in the dark.

Despite of it all, dinner was really nice and I think I came home around midnight. I warned him there was a slight chance I could turn into a toad when the clock striked twelve. Evil, evil...
Fell asleep almost immediately at home, did manage to wash off make up, am very proud of self for that. As for Mr Norway...I don´t know. He´s like, really, really cute, perhaps too cute for my taste. But he likes to read, is up to current affairs and has an IQ of 160. Not bad.
Still he insisted on having dinner with a hungover Gonzalita, faaaar from being my usual International Partygirl self. That IQ-test must have gone wrong somewhere.