Who invented lime and vodka anyway?

My days been an absolute waste. I drank green drinks last night and now I look an unflattering tinge of green myself. I've also almost drank an entire 2Litre bottle of diet coke in a desperate attempt to shift my hangover, because somewhere in the back of my mind I remember reading something about it restoring sugar levels when you are hungover. However, it's diet, so that probably doesn't work really does it?

On top of a hangover from hell my mum has been openly telling me what a disappointment I've been today because I haven't managed to move from the sofa and help her with my nieces. That is literally the last thing I needed to hear in my state. I realise it is self-inflicted but when I have a hangover I treat it as a proper illness. In my eyes I don't get ill very often and so if there was such a thing as sick days in life, as in work, a hangover day would fall under the same category as flu. It is a little like mans flu, I roll around the house all day moaning even though nobody cares; I want to eat the biggest, fattest burger invented because sod the diet, all I want is to feel normal; and I expect everyone to rally round me because if I move from my spot on the sofa I get the distinct feeling the floor is going to come in contact with my face. As with mans flu, hangover day results in myself not getting any work done and so here I am, a bloody disaster area.

I do normally love it though. The girls and I normally lie around on Lynds's bed laughing hysterically about the previous night's antics. Then we scrutinise the photographic evidence and begin piecing the night together. It's like a club, without a hangover there is no membership. However, at home I'm always the only one is my house feeling crap, so I have to just wallow in my own self pity and cringe at who would have seen my queen stylee nose dive off the stage or my 'sexy' (most definitely was not sexy) solo pole dancing in Follies. Follies, the local classy establishment, full of sophistication and eligible bachelors. Careful, you almost believed me then.

A morning after a night out will most probably involve a lot of Facebook apologies. I don't know where I'd be without Facebook to sort my life out. Apparently there's going to be a monthly Facebook magazine, that should be interesting... Perhaps they will have random peoples profiles to nose through. I would say this would bore me, but then it's more than likely I would pick it up and read it if I saw it in WH Smith. Obviously hidden in a corner under a sheet of newspapers just incase people thought facebook had actually taken over my life.

When I was working in the city centre last week the audacity of the people who stand reading magazines in shops without buying them amazed me. That concept has just never entered my head. Perhaps they're the modern equivalent of a book club? Maybe they meet on Friday lunchtimes to discuss their magazines and rate them out of 10. After all, stealing is not classed as stealing unless you have left the shop without paying for an item. However, there just seems something wrong about what they are doing and perhaps a little sad. After all the people who stand around the aisles of WH smith and other newsagents seem to all be working men. If it was me I would rather relax on the sofas in Starbucks, cafe latte in one hand, marshmallow dipped in chocolate with hundreds and thousands in the other and a big, fat magazine on my lap. My idea of heaven. I guess it must be to save funds, perhaps when Amy and myself are bigshot magazine journalists we can go and blast them all out of there at lunchtimes. Or not.

Until the next thought...

Hannah xx