Ain't got time to bleed

I was a little silly with booze last night, and as I am officially Too Old for that sort of behaviour any more my entire weekend is now a bust. I made a list of all the writing I'm now not going to do because I am so poorly. I'm a dimwit. It was a good night out but now I just want to crawl under my duvet and quietly expire with dignity. Hopefully not covered in sick.

I have, however, learned an important lesson, and that is not to watch films with sad bits in them when hungover. My hangover cure would be, I decided, to order pizza and park myself in front of the TV to watch my new Blu-ray boxset of the extended editions of Lord of the Rings. By the time I got to the end of Fellowship of the Ring I realised that I was blubbering like an infant, face streaked with tears and gasping for breath between deep, guttural sobs.

I'm not sure why. It seems hangovers now make me emotionally sensitive, as well as physically delicate. Who knew that could happen.

I can only hope that tomorrow when I'm feeling better I shall be back to my big, manly self and that this brief flirtation with girly sniffles is just that. I may have to hand in my testicles if it becomes a habit.

I'm sort of afraid to watch Two Towers now. Maybe I'll watch Predator instead and butch up...