I may have recovered from my hangover, finally, but my body's definitely not recovered from 2 weeks of wine, cheese and 4 packets of oreos with a glass of milk a day. According to my doctor, I'm lactose intolerant and my body's very special way of telling me it hates milk is to give me a lovely big belly an hour after I've had any dairy to eat/drink. Sexy.
Because I'm terrible at turning up to the gym or even to Yoga now that this ridiculously hot guy started going (I don't want him seeing me giggling through downward facing dog), I need a new exercise.
It's been recommended by Velma that I just dance through everything I do. Her theory is that I'll get fit and also get all my tunes set for carnival.
I've fallen for this song, it makes me think of that moment on a night out when everything is absolutely perfect. You've got your girls, the world is fuzzy and pumping to the DOPE tune that's playing.
For those of you that fell victim to my drunken texting last night (I checked my outbox. There were a lot of you, sorry), you'll understand why it is that this morning I'm not feeling too chirpy. If there's one thing that wakes me up properly and makes life worth living again post-big night, it's a really good pot of tea and some gentle comedy.
If I'm honest, it's not gentle comedy that I'd go to first of all, it'd be the crime drama's, but this morning alibi (best sky channel in the world) was only showing that episode of Diagnosis Murder where Barry Van Dyke is dating the serial killer rapist bitch. I've seen that one a billion times.
Fill the kettle, I'm having 5 cups at least, but I need to warm the pot first. Up to 6 we go. The kettle's full of limescale, but I'm sure that adds to the taste.. That's gross.
Lift open the lid just before boiling, the thermometer stops working then, and the water boils to super hot. Probably destroying my kettle's fuse, but it means the tea is piping hot. Yum, yum. I like the noise of the water splashing inside the kettle. I'm trying to imagine the warm water washing away my headache, but it's not working.
Warming the pot makes the tea taste better. I fill it half with warm water from the tap and half with boiling water from the kettle. Swill twice and pour it out, singing "I'm a little teapot, short and stout". I think I'm still a little drunk.
Earl Grey tea is the best tea. It smells like cool rain on my aching head. You know those nurofen adverts, where the nurofen speeds to the red target headache and gets rid of it? I have no nurofen, and I don't want to leave the safety of my home to get some. I look like crap. Anyhow, I imagine the sweet clearing smell of the tea is the nurofen and it's speeding to my head.
Three spoonfuls of the purpley tea leaves into the warm pot. Taking this photo was difficult. I nearly spilled the tealeaves everywhere. I don't have much left either, so that'd have been a disaster. Especially since I'm in no way fit to go get more from tesco. Then fill with hot water, I boiled it again to make sure it was super hot.
Stumble back into the living room, it's cosy and dark, and as much as I want to curl up under my blanket again and fall asleep, I've done that before. I always wake up 20 minutes later feeling even worse. Have to open the curtains and let daylight in, as much as it hurts. It feels like it's burning my frontal lobe, but once I stop being a drama queen, I feel slightly better being able to see stuff.
Turn on Frasier. It'd be Diagnosis Murder, but like I said, it's a repeat. I'll watch it until 10.40 when Cash in the Attic starts, that's brilliant hangover tv.
By now the tea should be brewed. I put the strainer on the cup and pour it out. Again, this photo was mad difficult to take, especially since I had my runway edit under the cup. I was so scared I was going to spill it on that holy publication that I set my camera on a timer.
That's a wonderful sight. That teamed with Niles' antics pursuing Daphne makes me feel much better.
This is a better sight. Oreos yum. I justify this by telling myself that I need to replenish my blood sugar. It's mad low at the moment.
Cash in the Attic's on now. I'm going to watch it.
I've received numerous complaints of late, and rightly so. I haven't updated this blog for.. 117 days.
Now that I haven't posted something for so long, I feel like this next post has to be something exceptional. However, there isn't much exceptional going on in my brain at the moment. To be fair, there isn't much of anything going on in my brain at the moment other than an overwhelming desire to go microwave some smiley faces.
This is because last night was a very, very messy night, one that I am still suffering from now. As many witnesses from last night, the wee hours of this morning, and the early afternoon of today will tell you. Me and my new good friend Alex (whom I met at La Tasca, where I now work) went for cheeky cocktails at Vodka Revolution by Stamford Brook as soon as I finished my shift at around 5.30.
Big Mistake.
Alex has told me many many stories of her heavy-weight skills when it comes to alcohol, and I've told her many stories of my light-weight skills when it comes to alcohol, so once we'd both had a couple of happy hour cocktails in us, it seemed like a wonderful idea to do "traffic light" shots to "train" me up.
Once I'd downed my shots and realised what a horrible mistake it was, we met Tommy, Alexia, Will, Max and Chris in the Bull at Westfields for more cheeky drinks, and after letting Alex buy me wine, I realised what a horrible mistake that was as well. After that, I dragged Alex and Will all over W3 and W4 until Alex went home, and after that I realised what a horrible mistake it was to go back to Acton in first place.
Me and Will then got lost trying to get to Fabric, but were eventually successful and got to the damned club, had tequila to top up and despite all my horrible mistakes of that night, I enjoyed finding a hazy new love for music I previously had only contempt for.
On my way home this afternoon (Will kindly offered to put me up at his, there was no way I was getting back across the Thames at 6.30 feeling as rough as I did) I met so many people, who laughed at me with my "blergh" face, manly croaky voice and skanky outfit. So today people, while I am updating this blog, there is nothing for me to update it with other than this entertaining but shameful story.
Tomorrow I'll attempt to post something vaguely intelligent about art.
I'm off to eat another 3 packets of microwave smiley faces.
ME: I like lots of things but its shit to list that here. Read my blog, you'll get me eventually. I don't even know why this part of the blog exists, just cos its a template, and I dont know how to get rid of it. Might as well fill it with something
I don't update this blog as much as I should, apologies. I'm a 20 year old student living in London/Cambridge depending on the dates. I've just finished a difficult two years studying Japanese, and while I loved my culture/essay subjects, the grammar got to me, and I'm starting my final two years in History of Art in October! VERY exciting. This blog is both a diary for me and a collection of things within art, fashion and music that I find interesting.
