What time did I leave Revolution last night?

I remember going in, and deciding I was going to hang out in there til closing time, to chat with Anny when she got off work, but I also vaguely remember difficulty walking, downing drinks through a straw, taking more than my fair share of a pitcher (two, actually).

Distinguishing between reality and fiction isn't really helped by the dream I had of a never-ending stream of vomit gushing from my throat, and of bouncing from one wall to another as I got home.

At least, I hope it was a dream, and I won't find pools of spew when I go out onto the corridor.

That would just be ick.

(This time, I was too drunk, I hope, to leave messages in other people's blogs, although I did accidentally leave the computer on overnight, waking up to two MSN conversations, one from Lorna, one from Claire, both asking why the hell I was still up.)


My parents are on their way up to deliver birthday presents and stuff, and the room is still swaying. I think I'm still drunk. This could be fun...