Golden Monday

When I got up this morning it was dark. Dark and cold and really foggy outside. I had promised a friend to wear glasses today (instead of my normal contactlenses), so all in all it seemed pretty much like a bitch normal Monday.
Rolling down the hill on my bike - nothing unusual. (Except for the glasses that seemingly prevented me from crying my eyes out as I usually do).
Going inside the institute - nothing special. Just chatting with the others before the lecture started.

"I wish I could look as sexy as Charlotte sporting glasses and a bike..."

Then I opened up my computer and logged on Facebook and there it was.
A golden ticket from Willy Wonka.
A treasure chest on the bottom of the ocean.
A light at the end of the tunnel!

This is how the light at the end of winter the tunnel looks.

An invitation to fucking southern France. For two weeks. This summer.
Holy crap. I didn't believe my eyes. But a friend got permission from his parents to borrow their summerhouse in southern France for a couple of weeks and invite some friends along, and I was (one of the six) chosen one(s).
My Monday was saved. Actually I don't remember if I've ever been this happy on a Monday in November ever before.
Of course I had to spend the rest of the day (or until 14.00, at least) letting others on the institute know. They appreciated the information.
Mwahahaha.

Loves it.

Once There Was A Bottle Of Tequila...

Actually, once there were quite many bottles of tequila, and the people of the kingdom of Geosciencia could not quite believe the number of there was.
"Why are there so many bottles?" "Are they just for tonight?" "How shall we ever drink all of them?" they asked. The people believed there were too many bottles to be drunk in one evening.

Like this. Exept it was bottles. And lemons. And there were many more!
And... well, it wasn't all that fancy.

One evening there was a party. A party where men dressed like women would walk the catwalk and compete for the title of Miss Geo 2011. The competing started late, for earlier on, most of the men denied any interest in this title, though they secretly yearned to win. As the evening went on, beer was drunk and many a bottle of tequila was emptied, and suddenly more showed interest in partaking in the glorious competition.
Luckily for them, there were old ladies-clothing and women quite capable of helping with the hardships of "make-up" - an ancient artform, and mystery for many a man.

You need our help or you'll end up looking like this. Or worse.

At the late hour of ~8pm more than half the bottles of tequila('s content) had disappeared mysteriously, and the show was about to begin.
Yours truly were not feeling all the way on top, due to standing behind the bar which led to quite a few free rounds of shots from happy costumers. Tablesoccer did not burn off the lovely effects of the tequila. Or the beer. Or the vodka... Well, back to the story.
One by one the competitors took the catwalk. Bodyparts were shaken, clothes taken off and moves that need a PG-rating, at the least, was made. Finally there was a winner.
It's a little foggy what exactly made him stand apart from his competitors, but win he did, and happy he was.

"Yeah, bitches. This is how I roll."*
*Not Miss Geo in photo.

For the record I shall let it be known, that by 22-23-ish all the tequila was gone. And the people of Geoscienca wanted more. I, however, had decided that I needed no more (alcohol) to drink for the night, and drunkenly happily left a while later to get fastfood and nice, cold water.