I have Bali drafts that are awaiting me uploading some damn photos to damn flickr I don’t know what’s wrong with… why is this shit taking so long?   Why don’t I do the things I want to do at work when I get home?  It’s Tuesday morning and I’m feeling pretty shitty, listening to The Gossip and trying not dry retch at my too strong coffee that’ll I’ll drink regardless, because I am a total sucker for punishment.  I thought I’d got rid of my hangover yesterday but possibly not.  I think the only reason I’m doing this blog is because I put a two hour block on Facebook at work and have nothing else to waste time with.

Yesterdays hangover was totally manageable though.  I didn’t spew and my head was all good after some high strength Nurofen… which doesn’t generally work but it did this time.  I think the switch from wine to beer has really made a difference in lowering the intensities of Suicide Sunday.  Or Monday.  Whatever.

The point is, it was Labour Day weekend this weekend which means we got Monday off.  It’s just occurred to me I have no idea what Labour Day is for.  I will wiki later.  On the Sunday night was the Rugby World Cup final, something I generally never give a shit about and despise just a little.  Except this year it was hosted on our little island and hey… we actually made it all the way to the final game.  It was impossible not to get caught up in the country’s excitement.    Somehow I’d gone from someone who had no intentions whatsoever of watching any of these games to someone who knew the players names (well, the hot ones) could speculate on gameplay (probably badly) and watched like, 5 games over the season.  Who am I?  Who’s life is this?  How do I stop doing that falling asleep at my desk thing?  The coffee, it does nothing.

We had an awesome night out, I got to catch up with my beautiful girls from school which then turned into a big town session which saw us get home at about 5am.  Hell.  Have not had a bender like that in a long time.  After a few drinks I’d quickly undone all the good work with the not smoking that I’ve accomplished lately.  I found a full, unopened packet of cigarettes in my handbag and I know for a fact I didn’t buy them.  Who’s are they?  Anyone?  Why are my forearms bruised?

I guess I’m on full detox again, no meat, cutting out diary and taking vitamins.

This week Battlefield comes out and a few people at work, and actually Jase as well, are taking days off so they can power game.  I just want to take days off so I can sleep.  That’s not true.. I might preplan some time off for Skyrim.

WRITE THE DAMN BALI BLOGS.  OK.