Poulet

I'm sorry. I'm far too hungover to go in to everything properly. I don't know why I was quite so surprised when at 11am this morning whilst sat at work I suddenly had the compulsion to curl up and die. Five solid days of sustained, heavy drinking has to catch up with someone at some point. Not even a trip to the Mac shop to buy a shiny new ipod (I caved. It's lovely.) made me feel any better.

Let it be known, however, that put 14 girls together for 16 hours of binge drinking and half of them will go totally fucking batty. Like girls haven't got a reputation for that sort of thing anyway. Luckily, and surprisingly, I wasn't batty. Just very, very drunk. The battiest hen was a sight to behold. I don't think I've ever fully comprehended the phrase, "screaming like a fish wife", until Saturday night. I blame match.com for her craziness. That and her problems with light bulbs. Must be it.