It’s
3am and Kat tries to recall what happened on New Year’s Eve night. Although it
passed by in a series of ridiculously funny events, the real picture has been
clouded by the drunken haze everyone was in that night.
Nursing a hangover, while listening to Steve Lamacq talk about the parties that went on NYE in the UK, *sigh*.
Something
he said did catch my attention.
“If
you’re a New year’s eve hangover casualty, our heart goes out to you. But
remember… it’s your own fault”.
Stupid git. Like we’re not regretting the hangover already.
This darned flu I have is not helping Kat exert literary strength however little. Ok enough of rubbish. I’ll do this another day when I’m in better shape.
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