Firstly, I reveal some of the acceptable images of Sam's Birthday Party....
|Mel and Cheyna, Daft Mandy in the back|
|The chocolate cake shooters. They really did taste like chocolate cake.|
|Mel and Sam (the birthday girl)|
Great fun but the next day?
I was regurgitating whiskey through my nose! I thought my stomach was churning liquored butter! I couldn’t pick my head up without feeling like it was going disengage from my staggering body. Even my fucking eyeballs ached. The kids wanted me out of bed at 6:30am but didn’t they know I only got home at 2am? I think I was still half pissed when I got up.
Jaysus, I wondered how I was going to get through the day.
On top of that we had a family lunch at a semi-posh restaurant to go to. I didn’t know how I was going to make it! Especially as my gut was doing an impersonation of an alcoholic tumbleweed. I could hardly walk, let alone make polite conversation and pretend to be human. Cool water on my face was my best friend after hanging over the porcelain. Everything I was ingesting was revisiting my mouth 10 minutes later. Urgh!
I spent the morning retching up most of the alcohol in my system. Then the dry heaves set in. My belly lurches were causing an intestinal inferno. I tried to take wee nibbles of dry bread to settle my stomach so I could make it to lunch.
I finally made it to the restaurant for lunch and I also managed to eat something and digest it! My Cajun calamari would have tasted so much better without the peppering of puke.