Why do I persist in making my body suffer every time I go drinking with friends? This Saturday past I attended the "Welcome back to Australia" party for a friend who'd been living in Japan for a year. Amazingly enough I think I behaved myself this time, even after I blew chunks of pizza and vodka into a pile on the lawn, then emptied a tube of toothpaste into my mouth to get rid of the taste before taking a nap (alone) in our host's bed.
But all yesterday I could still smell the sickly sweet stench of puke, almost like a chunk had been imbedded into my nostril. Grotty.
I won't swear off alcohol (after all this year I've been only having one piss up per month, up to eight now) though I will be slowing my consumption of liquid fun to a snails pace so the puking (which is the worst) doesn't happen again.