Lessons in wine drinking.
I've treated myself to a pyjama day. The culprit behind my refusal to dress is my evil hangover. Last night, not only did I mix my drinks beyond reason, in the process I also consumed the better part of a bottle of wine.
Now, whilst you could hook up an IV of Jack Daniels to me and I'd stay pretty damn coherent, give me wine and well, the next morning I wake up looking like a zombie. Sometime during the night I also contracted a cold- probably from walking in the semi-snow- and so now I look like an alcoholic zombie. Whilst I was tempted to document the results of my excess with photographic equipment, I quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn't a good idea, as those few who bother to read this would probably be so repulsed that they would never return again.
There is also the factor of the bastards who decided to free up the paving stones under my bedroom window at 8:30 this morning. Do these people not have beds? It's Saturday morning, I've already got one jackhammer going INSIDE my head, I don't need another outside, reminding me thankyouverymuch.
In light of this hangover, I also feel that its fair to give my brain a break from the constant work and enjoy a day of laziness. After getting out of my bed at 1, I've moved myself into a nesting position at the base of it armed with cushions, blankets, a bottle of lemonade, a spliff and all of the remotes in order to just veg. And it feels good. SO good. All of my previous notions of maybe getting dressed and going for a walk have been dismissed, in favour of dossing around online and watching the Athletics on BBC1.
Why walk when I can watch others run on tv?
Now, whilst you could hook up an IV of Jack Daniels to me and I'd stay pretty damn coherent, give me wine and well, the next morning I wake up looking like a zombie. Sometime during the night I also contracted a cold- probably from walking in the semi-snow- and so now I look like an alcoholic zombie. Whilst I was tempted to document the results of my excess with photographic equipment, I quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn't a good idea, as those few who bother to read this would probably be so repulsed that they would never return again.
There is also the factor of the bastards who decided to free up the paving stones under my bedroom window at 8:30 this morning. Do these people not have beds? It's Saturday morning, I've already got one jackhammer going INSIDE my head, I don't need another outside, reminding me thankyouverymuch.
In light of this hangover, I also feel that its fair to give my brain a break from the constant work and enjoy a day of laziness. After getting out of my bed at 1, I've moved myself into a nesting position at the base of it armed with cushions, blankets, a bottle of lemonade, a spliff and all of the remotes in order to just veg. And it feels good. SO good. All of my previous notions of maybe getting dressed and going for a walk have been dismissed, in favour of dossing around online and watching the Athletics on BBC1.
Why walk when I can watch others run on tv?
posted by adulescent at 3:01 PM
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