Why is it, that after a hard night on the pop we always say, ‘I’m never drinking again’, when we know we’re likely to poison ourselves further in the near future? Saturday was typical of this. I woke up feeling terrible. Next door’s dog must have broken in during the night and taken a shit in my mouth. I was tired, grouchy, miserable, thick-headed. I was suffering from the hangover from hell and said just that, ‘I’m never drinking again’.
It is bullshit, of course, I’ll be out again before I know it pouring filth down my throat and getting wrecked. Friday didn’t teach me that it was BAD for me, even though I came home and chucked up the one slice of takeaway pizza I managed to eat before falling into bed. I hate being sick, but sometimes you just have to do it. I am a big believer in my body knowing what is best for me. If it doesn’t want a substance I have consumed inside me, then I give my body the full rights to eject that substance. My body knows best, my mind does not.
So, feeling totally awful on Saturday morning, I went of to see my babe who has been out of hospital for just a few days. She looked better than I did, which isn’t very fair when you consider she has had surgery recently. But such is the penalty of alcohol consumption. Have a great night and say fuck off to the morning after.
Actually, Friday wasn’t a great night. I’ve had better. It was Terry’s birthday so I wanted to go out and celebrate. I was pissed by the time we went to the Nightclub at 22:30 and was beyond rescue by 11:30. I was home by midnight, but I don’t begrudge leaving early because it was free to get into the club. I think if I had paid to get in, I might have stayed despite being out of control due to the alcohol. God knows what would have happened in that situation. Maybe I’d have chucked up on the dance floor. …Maybe not.
Speaking of dancing. Why the fuck do we do it? I’m terrible. Sarah once said to me, But Alan, you don’t dance with me, you dance at me’. I must be shit if that is what people think when they see my unique version of the funky chicken.
Liberation od my inhibiations due to alcohol. Straight and sober, you’d never catch me dancing to shitty music. Pissed out my head, you bet I’m first one up there. Oh, the embarrasment! We should be made to watch videos of ourselves the next day to teach us a lesson.
Lesson #1. You dance like a spastic. Don’t fucking do it.
Lesson #2. Repeat lesson #1. until you never embarrass yourself again.
One good thing about Friday though, my fancy dress costume arrived. I’ll take photos and post them after the party. That is all.