The mother of all hangovers

Well, not quite the mother, but yesterday's one was a particularly bad one, made all the worse since I really don't think I deserved it. Let's start at the beginning, shall we, children? Sitting comfortably?

Once upon a time, there was a little Princess called Becky. One evening, Prince Not-Always-Entirely-Charming-but-Gorgeous-Nonetheless decided to take Princess Becky out to drink some beer. Prince Gorgeous really loved beer - it was a comfort to him in times of trouble, super-happy juice in times of celebration, medicine in times of sickness and basically his second best friend in the whole wide world. Over the course of the evening, what with long-missed undergraduate friends returning after the summer vac and all, Princess Becky managed to drink three pints of the stuff.

That's all. Nothing mad - no mixing of drinks, no tequila slammers, not even any chain smoking.

Fast-forward to the following morning. I woke up, felt okay, had a cup of tea and then made the fatal error of eating a chocolate button. Just one. Chocolate. Button. Mayhem ensues. Vomiting Veronica returns. Then I was okay for a few hours and asked James to go and get me a can of lemonade from the vending machine. Big mistake - huge! It was a calorie-free lemonade (why? why would he buy that for me, when what I obviously needed was SUGAR?). And suddenly, Veronica's at it again. Big time.

Glen arrived at 5.30, ready to accompany us to the Finn's surprise birthday party (why, oh why are there always surprise birthday parties on days like these?). I answered the door in my dressing gown, having been in bed all day, apart from a brief awakening when I had to make the Finn's sodding suprise fecking birthday cake. Glen was, admittedly, about half an hour early but that really didn't excuse my attire. So I arrived at the party like the walking wounded. The screams of "surprise!!!" (complete with multiple explanation marks) hurt, really REALLY hurt. I drank coke. Glass after glass of coke. And then I felt better.

But I didn't sleep, oh no, because by the time I went to bed I was loaded full of caffeine.

And today I had to go to work. Not surprisingly, nobody wanted to buy any expensive clothes from me.

I think it's time to go out for a nice glass of beer now. What harm could it possibly do?