So today the training resumes. Running around like a blue arsed fly with the sole purpose of being able to propel myself 6km to a bar some place. Without too much drama. Wearing a large pink tutu. And a tiara. And other suitably ridiculous paraphernalia. The mental picture is enough to send me retching towards the nearest toilet, but that probably has something to do with the current alcohol poisoning my body is so ungrateful for.
So last night we were treated to a gourmet feast prepared by Rose Thorn. I did the difficult part. Standing around, talking kak and drinking is integral to the success of any gathering and I am a master.
TDB did his best to play a bit of guitar for roughly 4 minutes, but soon realised it was farting against thunder and gave in to the festivities.
This morning is not going well. My insides are making a concerted effort to break the shackles of what's considered normal, ie: staying inside. Everything hurts. The soles of my feet are even sore. Training this afternoon is probably not going to be pleasant. Perhaps I should take along a little barf bag. "Party on Garth!"
In other news, I have recently rediscovered the wonder that is Transvision Vamp. Although this morning I'll settle for anything that isn't too taxing or loud. A bit of Portishead to soothe the furrowed brow methinks.
NGDG: "Oh shit! I've lost another 2kgs. Better have another pizza again tonight or I'll disappear. Maybe I'll see my favourite underage waitress too. *Smiling. But not in a creepy way."
Spread The Love. Panado, Disprin, Adco-dol, Grandpa, Mybulin, Myprodol, Horse Tranquilisers, Judas Priest album from 1990. Any kind of love...