Thursday, October 23, 2003

"Go on... I'm sure he's not asleep yet..."
I have not had to do a full day's work while hungover to fuck for a while now and it is quite a shock trying to balance on my crappy ladder with an armful of files and suddenly wanting to vomit while my head erupts into an internal and out of tune rendition of Holst's Planets (all of them). I blame my darling post-grad girlie friends with whom I always seem to end the evening rolling in drunk and reeking of booze, fags and unsuitable men, talking nonsense. I can just about recall lying in bed and commanding a slightly startled Taxloss to wake up Boatie flatmate so he could "snuggle with him... I don't mind watching..." and then it all went blank. And now it is all flashing lights, churning guts and cold, shakey moments in between flashbacks of the night before. I think we ended up in an Australian-theme pub and were dancing to ... oh god, it's all coming back in a rush, just like the gush of bile rising up my throat... I'm off to take some more Resolve. Pheh.

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