Hazard

I think it found me. My hangover that is and it's causing me pain. Serious physical and emotional pain. There must be something going around.

I awoke Sunday afternoon with a bruise the size of Luxembourg on my shoulder. The hematoma appears to have mutated into an invisible virus and has spread it's pale green wings down to my elbow and across the back of my neck so that every time I move without conscious pain evasion techniques I feel like I have been bitch slapped by Chuck Norris.

My head is throbbing like a devils member and my once adequate ability of composing full coherent sentences is ...... well you know...it doesn't work so good.

Did you ever have those days when you feel entirely disconnected? Like the world is moving all around you but you're trapped in a muffled hazy bubble? My brain is all muddled. I have no coordination and various parts of my maladroit body, especially the aforementioned offending shoulder keep making heavy contact with various protruding items. And walls. Walls are bastards!

I now have a bleeding finger, a bruised knee and a paper cut on my nose. I am also wondering how many Nurofen I can take before drifting into a coma.

I am a hazard to myself and I think it's for the best that I do nothing more for the rest of the day. And is it just me or does the "new" Oasis song sound like every other Oasis song ever released?

urg...bleh

I have just lured my daughter away from her Sesame Street website with selection of cartoon treats on the satellite - Scooby Doo was the clincher. So I can write about my hangover. What a good mother am I!

Oh God. I only had a mini hangover - one glass of wine and maybe three cocktails? But that's more than I've drunk in a long time. And it's not worth it! Especially not when I'm killing off my baby's brain cells to do it, oh awful, bad woman! Sobreity may not seem like a good option when every one else is drinking, but it's better the next morning. I bet Aisling's been out for a run already.

Being hungover while having to look after your children is just not good. I seriously can't think or speak or use my hands properly this morning!

Ok, enough moaning.

Here's how to make daquiris - blend ice in a blender, add strawberries, icing sugar and lime juice, bacardi to taste - I think they were too strong last night (thank you MW who wasn't actually plannig on drinking them!), the whole point of cocktails is that the alcohol doesn't taste like alcohol, just tasty drink.

I enjoyed muchly listening to Idiot ranting about gay men and their fashion accessory small dogs, while holding a drink that looked just like the one in his picture below :)

I think my favourite entertainment is a night in, food and conversation. I like going out, but I think staying in is better. It's cheaper, and more comfortable - my only complaint was that I find it hard to wear day clothes at home at night - oo, I was very very tempted to go put on my comfies, my body was screaming out for them!

The food was gorgeous, though I do say so myself, though MW made most of it - cheesy pesto bread, fantastic. Giant selection of desserts, three by Midge (on a baking bender!), one by Ais, and profiteroles in the fridge for me today - it just wasn't humanly possible. I'm hoping Aisling will post the picture of Idiot's offerings, an eclectic and eccentric mix they were. A Pot Noodle prize to the most humorous comment today...

A small moan - my husband came over all shy and fecked off out with his mates. Texted me at about 2.20 to say 'In a taxi, on the way home'. But he wasn't actually on the way home, he was in his friend's home, where he stayed for several more hours. So though this is perhaps the second late night I've had in - well, seven months, anyway, I got up at 8 this morning, got the kids breakfast etc. Arse.

The sad thing is, my husband's very nice. He's sweet, he's very funny, he's good company, I would have been happy to have him meet the people who, as Shan says, we spend a lot of time with. But instead I end up complaining about him publicly again, which isn't really good. Sigh.