Da da da da da da da da MY SHARONA!
Today I am hungover. It’s mostly my fault, although surely some responsibility should be assumed by someone else, as a general rule it’s nice to spread that out. The danger signs were pretty evident, at one point GB went to get me a diet coke and when he came back I had a glass of red wine in my hand and NO IDEA how it got there. Genuinely. No idea. Still.
However I didn’t fall over and I didn’t puke on my fur stole. Hurrah!
Now I am trying to pretend I’m not hungover so my husband doesn’t look at me with those I Told You So eyes. I hate that look. The look that can only truly be mastered by someone who is not a big drinker. Whose friends sing to him on those special occasions where he hits the big 5 mark (to the tune of My Sharona), ‘da da da da da FIVE CORONAS!’
However, I got my one up on him last year. After a morning of giving me the look, he went to have a shower and so I puked in the kitchen sink and never told him.
Joke’s on YOU jerkface.
Puke.
Nap.