Yuck. Another Monday, here we go again. Literally felt like I died around 3 times this morning. Getting out of bed, killed me. Getting out of the shower into the cold, killed me further. Having to wake up and get off the train at Liverpool St topped me off and thus, I am the walking dead. I’ve had some rather peculiar dreams lately. Yesterday I dreamt that my friends Taylor and Max were dancing round a super market to a 70’s themed routine wearing bright orange shirts – I genuinely woke up laughing. And then last night, from what I can remember, I dreamt I had a little baby brother. Was absolutely gutted to wake up and realise my mother’s ovaries hadn’t been at it. He was a right chubby little thing and always wanted cuddles. Not much I enjoy more than a good cuddle. Convinced my nights out of heavy drinking influence my brain’s productivity and cause me to have such random dreams. I really need to stop drinking, not that I drink on a totally regular basis anyway. Nine times out of ten, if I’m going out I tend to drive but it’s that one out of ten that kills me and causes me to act like a total idiot. It’s always a little worrying when the night before is a little hazy. I’m normally pretty good at remembering what was said, what happened etc. but I can safely say that it’s no longer one of my strong points. I’m the kind of drunk that really does let out my true thoughts and emotions and it’s proven to be a bad thing. If it doesn’t land me in a bit of trouble, it leaves me feeling embarrassed for sharing my opinions on things. Believe it or not, I have trouble telling people how I feel. You’d never think it from reading my blog but in the flesh, to put my thoughts into words is something I struggle with. So yeah, if ever I ramble on when I’m drunk, please just ignore what’s being said because chances are, it’s something I shouldn’t be telling you.