A weekend of balance. Haven't had one of those for a while.
Friday night I caught up with all my mates I haven't seen in yonks. It was really good to have a little razzle and giggle over how ridiculously giggly, unglamourous and predictable we are. It was a nice night – not too crazy.
You know you stopped the funbus before it got out of hand when:
* The next day, Gandhi's Sandal does not reside in your mouth.
* The head is not immovable and pounding.
* You don't immediately on opening eyes, crave a KFC Streetwise Two.
* You don't have memory loss and/or any embarrassing moments which are later recounted in a fashion of table dancing, multiple Jaegerbombing and falling over the bouncer.
* Your car radio isn't set on maximum volume blaring the likes of Pat Benatar or Cream Anthems 2, the next morning.
No, instead had a flipping makeover. And put in six hours work. Hair was cut, layered and dyed, face and body were embalmed in Dead Sea Mud – eczema cream has been applied to my face every five seconds since Saturday. I have stocked up on my multi-vitamins and even bought a spanking new layered-bristle toothbrush.
Here on out, I'm going to take care with my appearance. So help me God.
Speaking of so help me God, my dad gets here in two days. Chaos. Chaos I'm not ready for.
C and I, not particularly loving life to the full right now, drank a glass of red last night and bitched about life. Always feel better after that.