And again...

I am not a very smart person. If I know partying makes me feel like shit, kills my mood, and keeps me bedridden for days on end, why can't I ever just say no?

Got back in from a weekend in London where master cleansing was replaced by testing the functionality of my liver--by using Guiness and wine.

Off to do the reading that I've neglected, and finish off the Chinese food I ordered in. When did drinking make me feel this bad?