We all had last Friday off, due to a sweet sweet holiday called Canterbury Anniversary (or commonly known as Show Day), so this past weekend has been a long one (and a truly eventful one at that!). BBQ at Mum's on Friday night, which I'm ALWAYS up for, I freakin' love BBQ's!
Then on Saturday we had the Races at Riccarton Park. This lasted from about 11am until 9pm, with some seriously drinking (bourbon is nice sometimes?) and gambling (hoorang!) in the middle.
Sunday was a day of serious hangovers, souvlaki's, a new shiny haircut, and then there was Sunday night where I experienced severe hatred and violence. That hatred being the hatred my body has for me, and the violence it then decided to besiege. My stomach decided that all processes would be expedited, in either rewind or fast forward, with no apparent consideration on time, place or serious tiredness, which needless to say means I've spent the last 2 days either asleep or on the toilet with my head in a bucket (I suppose still half asleep at those times too).
I'm back at work today, but my outlook is still a tad grim. I had great trouble this morning having a shower at 6am, then trying to locate my trousers (since I hadn't had to wear them in days) was a bit of a struggle. I haven't been able to eat anything terribly serious, mainly sticking to half a cup of soup and a few crackers here and there. Staying hydrated seems to be the biggest hurdle for me, since I'm pretty lazy when it comes to liquid. The one thing it has taught me is to be aware of my bodily functions, thanks to an unfortunate incident involving a set of good bedsheets and early morning unawareness. Let's not say anymore about that.
I'm hoping for a speedy recovery, but it doesn't look like I'll get one anytime soon. I'm not entirely sure what the problem is, but lets just say my finger is waning toward the very disgusting portable toilets at the Races.
Ew. Fucken Ew.
PS. Excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes you may have encountered in this entry, I'm a bit out of it today.