The Adventures, Mishaps and Musings of Me

Red wine + White wine + More red wine + Vodka + Cocktail = Sunday morning hangover over of doom = Swirling room, sick stomach and insincere vows never to drink again, blah, blah, blah, etc. etc. etc.

One strange facet of drinking, I find, is that although alchohol causes your mother tongue to rapidly disintergrate, unexplainedly, second languages seem then to roll off the tongue with far more ease.  Or perhaps that's just an appearance. 

Or perhaps it's just that everyone involved becomes fluent in the international language of drunken gibberish.  

When is an egg too organic? 

When it contains a half formed chick foetus.  Ew. 

On another note, I have this strange and happily optimistic feeling that this is going to be a good academic year.  I'm not quite sure why.  Perhaps, it's because the year is less maths orientated.  Perhaps, it's becuase I so far like all of my classes and professors.  Perhaps, it's because I have all written exams instead of hideous orals.

Or perhaps it's just that a malformed chick foetus must be an omen of a rising grade point average.   

Within the first five minutes of my Grandma coming to visit me, she instantly starts telling me all about her busted knee operation.  And, if that wasn't wonderful enough, raising her summer dress to give me a good look at the area of thigh in question.  Now, my Grandma is a large blubbery whale of an old woman, and out of all the things I wanted to see just before dinner, an exclusive viewing of my Grandma's wrinkly rolls of post-operation leg fat was lower on that list then a puddle of vomit.

At the end of this display, I suddenly realised she had left a pause for me to say something and the only word I was able to communciate was, "lovely".