I got very drunk last night on the 42nd floor of the NatWest Tower in the City of London.  There's a bar at the top called Vertigo and you can see the whole of London from the comfort of your seat and champagne glass (c:

I woke up this morning: dehydrated, smokey hair, hot and smelly.  I felt like shit.  I drank a pint of water and then for the first time in my life threw up (the next morning after drinking).  It was very acidic puke - like it was pure alcohol.  Anyway, I felt better afterwards and debated with myself if I should go to work.  Needless to say, I did go to work, I always do, because I give myself a guilt trip.

I then got a nasty reception at work from my boss who shouted at me for not coming in early to take care of a client who needed me at 7am... it was 9.15am when I arrived with a piece of toast in my mouth and toilet paper stuck to my foot.  I then had to do 101 things before getting on a train to Brighton to visit a client.

I got a call from ugly (ex)girlfriend.  She had sent me text messages earlier in the week from her friend's mobile phone, which I thought were from my nympho nextdoor neighbour because I didn't recognise the number - so I had sent back 'fuck off' type messages... no wonder I hadn't heard from her!!  So, we're still going out with each other I suppose.  I apologised and explained the identity confusion.