Hung-over-Sunday

after nine of these, and three glasses of wine, what do you expect?

Saturday, Daniel finally finished his last exam, which gave both of us another lame excuse to celebrate over it (although I'm not sure what am I suppose to be celebrating...) got a 12 pack Stella Artois, and a 6 pack Mac's Gold, within a few hours, all the golden bubbly liquid was gone, gone deep down under.

11 pm, Daniel, who had a few additional shots of vodka, was still in great shape, changing into his clubbing costume, jelling up his hair, putting on his perfume, his mouth singing something I couldnt identify. me? I was totally wasted. how wasted? couldnt even decide which side of my shoe to be put on which side of my feet. even cut myself on my fingers while trying to pick up the bottle we broke a few hours ago. my blood flowing uncontrolably.usually I would try to stop the bleeding immediatly, but the alchohol made bleeding so facinating that I sat there and looked at my finger until it was in red.

(time unknown), eventually got to town, me and Daniel was feeling reaaaaaal bad by then, made the decision to go home. we were both reasonably fit, and walking home would be "usually" sweet for us. but given our "unusual" situation, it was expectedly challenging (remember, my place is at least 35 minutes walk away from town). after walking up a few flights of stairs, I squated down on the paveway of The Terrace, and started puking out my dinner, the Stella Artois and wine... wasted (pun intented). looked over my shoulder, Daniel was actually doing the exact same thing, with the exact same pose.

Sunday, woke up with a reaaal heavy head, and soft legs. Daniel? he basically didnt wake up at all. haha, man... wasted.