Oh, you know. Thingies.

I am suffering from a touch of blogger's block.

I have attempted to write a few posts, but I'm just not very funny at the moment. I'm also pretty busy at work, and today I am hungover. Hangovers drip acid on all the words that fly around my mad head, corroding holes in them so I can't read them or pluck them out of the air like, like, you know. Thingies.

I am hungover, however, for a very good reason. I had a lovely meal with Drew's friend Christopher last night, which involved a rather nice bottle of wine and a couple of extremely expensive, utterly delicious and monstrously alcoholic cocktails. Although Christopher and I knew of each other, it was the first time we had met, so were both surprised to find ourselves on the verge of staggering drunk when we emerged from hours of enlightened and witty conversation. Oh OK, we were talking about bumming and stuff. But anyway.

The closer I got to home, the drunker I became. By the time I swayed off the bus at Chessington I was still half-cut, and god knows what I was wittering on about to my flatmate's visiting Canadian cousin. Witter witter. All I know is that getting up for physio at 7:15am was no fun at all, especially as I was dreaming about Colin Farrell and I'm pretty sure he was about to pash the face off me.

But it was all worth it, and it is lovely to think that first of all Christopher and I shared a friend, then a couple of drinks, a meal, and now a killer hangover. Sweet!