But who needs eyes to swallow!?

After a fair amount of desperate tackling, of kicking and screaming, cheating (you know of whom I speak), running like a fucking nutjob, making all sorts of stupid decisions and eventually going insane with rage, Uppsala ladies made it to the final and Enköping did not. Celebrations were in order.

A combined victory/40th birthday dinner took place at the club, where our very own comedian (west coast born and bred) entertained with a disturbing story about a frog. The musical Bergvall sisters sang the sad story about a drunken ant and our faithful bartender smiled weakly as he mixed the 10th Screaming orgasm in a row.

As the hours went by, some of us realised that paying the entrance fee to Flustret wasn't such a bad idea after all. In fact, it was the best idea ever! But not even 3 hours of dancing could help get rid of the built-up tension from the game, and the 40+ white trash woman picking a fight in the queue to the coat room was suddenly facing not just the skinny bitch who pushed her (quote) but rather half a drunken rugby team with black eyes and bloody scratches. She left.

Cheers babes!