Drunk

Go away, I'm pissed.

I really can't be bothered to talk to you, because I've had a teensy bit too much ale, and quite frankly, I'm disappointed with myself.

I made myself a promise (not a resolution!), that I would refrain from heavy boozing on school nights, and up until this point, have managed this.

But today I went to the pub straight from work, and stayed there until chucking out time. A couple turned into a few, and then to some, until I finally hit several.

I blame nobody but myself. At any pint/point I could have just walked away, but never said no (actually I think I did, but pints kept appearing, so it would have been rude not to drink them).

The sad thing is what I drunk tonight would have been a walk in the park this time last year, but I am so not match fit that the mere sniff of a barmaids apron seems to send me a bit squiffy these days.

So I go to bed, pissed, but happy that I am now a cheap date. The only time I've come close to hitting 21 units in a week this year was at Matt's stag do. I'm an overweight lightweight. A 16 stone 2 pot screamer. The naysayer on a Leo Sayer. I can not just no longer hold the booze, I can't even pick it up any more.

Probably a good thing, I really can't tell. All I know is I want crisps, and my bed.

Now fuck off and leave me alone, I'm off to bed , and I know I'm going to feel like shit tomorrow.