The subway takes seconds when you're drunk but an eternity when you're hungover.
I woke up at noon today, with a thundering headache that soon progressed to nausea. My room was stiflingly hot and a little smoky and I realised after a while it was because my pork cutlet was still cooking. Upon getting home at 8am this morning, I'd started to fry a pork cutlet, before passing out due to drunkenness. So my pork cutlet cooked to a crisp in that four hours, and made my room unbearable to be in.
I got somewhat drunk last night. A fun night, though with no stories of real note.
I forgot to mention that in that dream I had, the girl's name was Somerfield, as in the UK supermarket of rapidly fading popularity.
I feel like dancing like an absolute maniac.
That's all for now.