End of days...

It was much like the apocalypse I had always dreamed about. Let it be said that there’s nothing like going out in a blaze of glory, and the fires were burning hot for my last night out on the booze with my long suffering work-mates.

The crew convened at Wellington’s snobbiest drinking establishment soon after the conclusion of work at 12am. On arrival at Motel; not just drinks were bought, but whole bottles of drinks were bought, we were settling in for the long haul.

Over the course of three hours, unknown quantities of quality alcohol slipped easily down our thirsting gastroesophageal junctions to the point where bipedal locomotion, otherwise known as dancing took place.
Bridget [above] doing the robot.

While showing us her sexy dance moves poor Rachel slipped and hit the ground like a rock right in the middle of the dance floor splitting her chin a bit and actually fracturing bones, though she didn’t realise until the next day. At this point the night had reached that messy and scandalous stage so a taxi was promptly caught.

Bridget and I were drunkenly snap-happy with the camera so after a bit of cropping I managed to get some good photos to share, why so many photos of Cory Bridget? ;-)

See the rest here.