Pynchon

My legs are aching me. When my legs ache me it is either that I am sickening for something, or it is over indulgence. I don't think I am sickening for something.

It went something like this.

"What would you like to eat, Sir?"

"Oh, I'll have the largest starter you have and the fat bastard mixed grill with extra chips, please?"

"And to drink?"

"Bring me Stella Artois, young woman!"

... and she did. I have abused my gut and I have abused my liver. I blame my Brother for the liver. He kept ordering drinks. It would have been rude to have declined.

I have been in a daze all day. God knows how I managed to make two trips into town with Lorraine for Christmas shopping. I decided against the cinema, for I truly feel that I would have fallen asleep had I gone.

One day I will manage to catch up with the evens of the last couple of days, but it ain't gonna me tonight, trust me.

In other important news, the McDonald Brothers have finally been kicked off "The X-Factor". I am going to miss them. They were bad. Now, Ben to win. I cannot stand wailing female singers. Sorry Leona.