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Sunday, 28 March 2010

Friday Night. Or how NOT to behave on a work night out.

On Friday I went on a night out with people from work.

I'm not passing the buck for my behaviour but who goes out at 5.30pm?!

It got off to a lovely start but by the time Mr G arrived at about 8pm I was already tipsy enough for him to whisper in my ear "do you think you should calm down a bit?"

Sadly this had the opposite effect of making me drink even more to convince him that I was FINE and could handle my drink.

By 11:30 I was at home with my head in the toilet but not before I had ordered a bottle of champagne on my boss's tab, and provided some pretty apalling backing vocals to Wonderwall with my arm clamped around some petrified musician in the bar.

Mr G rocked home at about 3.30am by which time I was feeling much more chipper.

However, come 6am I was back up again and spent the rest of the day alternating between deep slumber and violent chunder. You name it, I had it; the sweats, the shakes... eugggghhhhh.

It's not big and it's not clever. I can't handle too much alcohol and try to be sensible when I go out, but for some reason on Friday I was totally out of control. I hate that feeling the next day of total shame and humiliation, not to mention wasting an entire day by being unable to get out of bed.

I did manage to find the energy to take a photo of myself, which I am considering donating to a government campaign to curb binge drinking. No amount of alcohol is worth seeing two of these looking back at you the following morning:



Can anybody out there with any medical knowledge tell me whether it is normal, two days later, to be having such severe stomach cramps that I am doubled over in pain and panting like I'm in labour?! Am I dying?

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