What-ho, ladies and boy-ladies. Or gentlemen.

Hung out with Miami and Co. last night for DVDs, pizza and beers which all went more or less fine until I decided that my six-pack didn't do the job and that I would start with vodka. No. Bad. Now I'm dealing with a no good, very bad hangover. Fortunately it's not as bad as it was earlier today when I thought there was a very real chance of death, lol. Perhaps that was wishful thinking. Nausea, light sensitivity, nasty-ass headache...I made a valiant effort at trying to get out of bed and succeeded. Briefly. I spent much of today in bed trying (occasionally unsuccessfully) to avoid throwing my guts up. Ew. 

I really shouldn't drink. 

And I really, really shouldn't have taken advantage of some painkillers that might or might not have been around. Turns out I'm not as good with temptation as I thought I would be and I'm hoping that this doesn't lead to a backslide...I've been largely clean since about February and it was such a fucking mission, you know? So I'm just going to have to be a bit kind to myself and get through it. Preferably in one piece. It'll all be fine. 

Now the biggest piece of news...And I can't believe that I didn't mention it here before, lol (unless I did, in which case, disregard). I'm not good with news. Anyway, we're moving house. In two weeks. The packing is getting underway and it's such a pain in the arse...Especially since semester is building up to exams and I can't be too much more distracted or I won't be getting any work done at all. Anyhow, we're moving a little closer to the city so it won't take a million hours to get to uni and everyone will be nearer to things they like to do. We looked at the house a week or so ago, before the sale of our place settled, but we were only there for a few minutes on our whirlwind tour of crappy rental properties, lol. From what I recall, this place was by far the best of a bad bunch; nicely and recently renovated, nice garden (smaller than ours, but enclosed and secure), they take a dog (and cat) and it has four bedrooms. It's close to good stations and buses, near to shops and in a nice, safe area. Downsides? Only one living area (ew, sharing), eat-in kitchen (although the kitchen is brand new, so can't complain too much) and the bedrooms are smaller than the ones we have now...I hope I'll be able to fit my bed, bedside table, desk, TV and five bookshelves in, lol. I guess I could always take over the fourth bedroom too ;)

I'm so irritated with myself that I've done barely any work this weekend. I have a 3000 word essay due on the 3rd and I've done almost nothing. I have another phonetics assignment due in a couple days (not started) and I have to start studying for exams...Lucky me. 

And thinking about all this stuff is making me both nauseous and anxious, lol, so I'm going to watch some mindless TV for a while...Toddlers and Tiaras followed by Masterchef should do it. 

Good night all xx

Somehow, I'm not sure that I'd be all that surprised.


Writer's Block aside, I watched this documentary thing about a gorgeously flamboyant man named William who worked for the Queen Mother as one of her household staff. He spent something like fifty years in her service and rose from the very bottom to the very top because she liked him. When William headed her staff, his right-hand man was his lover, Reg (Jeeeeeeeves!!!!!!!), who he met very early on in his career with the Queen Mum. Even after William had a none-too-discreet affair with a young footman she protected him and kept him on staff despite claims he'd embarrassed the royal family. She even gave him the gate house on her property to have for his own. 

Unfortunately he got nasty and abused his power toward the end of his career and he was forced to leave the palace grounds when she died, bless her wee drunken soul, and he died not long after.

Turns out the Queen Mum was a giant fruit fly...Not that that's any grand surprise when one is aware of the relationship she had with Elton John ;) 

Oh, to have been a fly on the wall.

P.S. There is some real chance that I'm going to be the first otherwise healthy person to die of the common cold. If you all don't hear from me, assume I've died of mucous and coughing and from the trauma of constantly blowing my dashed nose. Urgh.