Its that morning after feeling. I'm sitting very, very still, hoping against hope that the threatening sensation in my stomach is not about to reveal what I ate and drank last night in glorious technicolour detail.
I'm also trying to motivate myself to write a document for work that I've been putting off for the last 2 weeks. However, I really can't be arsed at the moment. There are more important things to do. Like picking my nose or trying not to throw up.
The film was Spiderman 2. Not as bad as Van Helsing, but I'd recommend sloping off to the bar for the middle 45 minutes in order to miss the bit where the film jerkily transitions from its action roots into some sort of teen angst movie before the director realises he's been directing from the wrong script and picks up the one marked "blow stuff up".
(incidentally, the advert for the Orange mobile phone company at the start was better than some films I've seen recently.)
And then, of course, beer was taken. Women were leered at (in a progressively more unsubtle manner as more beer was consumed) and they leered back. Bars were visited. I have a memory of drinking something pink, and also of collecting a curry on the way back. No recollection of actually eating it, but judging by the distressing sensations this morning, I presume I did.
I'm going to eat a couple of oranges for breakfast. I understand they taste the same coming up as they do going down.
