That is what I call a party !

Whiskey night was a success.

It filled the party people with joy, laughter, silliness, loud voices and smooth dance moves. The mix of people was perfect, we ended up being 10. Bueno. We made lots of noise, so today trollet is hiding in her flat , hoping to not run into any tired looking neighbours. Oh well. It was Saturday.

In some way Saturdays are like the ferries between Finland and Sweden. When people get on these boats they leave their morals in the harbour and picked them up when they get back. Anything is allowed is a common rule. Which obviously is a sick rule. Saturdays are not like that, at least one can hope. But on Saturdays, after a few whiskeys, you relax, you feel smooth, you feel attractive, people find you attractive, you rule not only the world but also the dance floor. You don't throw your morals out the window but you might be tempted.

On the other hand there is Sunday after Saturday, and you don't want to stand in the window with tears in your eyes looking for those bloody morals. They might not be there to be found. Maybe a by passer saw them and decided that they needed them more. And maybe they did. But we all need our morals, don't we? Trollet nods. Oh yes, we do.

One could think trollet was about to throw her morals out the window last night, but no. That was not the case. She is just pondering about morals in general and about those times when she threw them far far out and did not found them for quite some time. Now they are in the pocket to stay.