Things I need to stop doing...

...now that I am about to become a Proper Grown Up Married Person.

# 1. Always being hungover on Thursdays.

# 2. And Tuesdays.

# 3. Having half a bag of cheese nachos as "an hors d'oevre".

# 4. Only doing laundry when begged by the Betrothed or when the pile behind the door makes it difficult to open said door.

# 5. Relying on kebabs for my vegetable intake.

I'm sick but I'm definitely not pretty...

Dear lord, that's it. I am giving up the high life. I'm just not able for it anymore. I'm not sure I've ever been so sick in my life. And in the actual street. I should be banned, or at least more heavily regulated. This always happens when the Betrothed is away, I think I can just slip back into my former party girl ways with barely a ripple but no, no, no I cannot. It takes training and dedication to get as wasted as I used to and emerge unscathed, one can't just do it on a whim. So yes, until the time comes when I'm ready to do fully-fledged alcoholic mania, I am out.

If you'll excuse me, I have to go get ready for the pub. As Alanis probably wouldn't say, seeing as her grasp of the concept appears to be so tenuous, isn't it ironic?

I'm sick but I'm pretty (ish).

Is there anything fucking worse than being sick on the weekend? All the live long week this lurgy could have struck me down and earned me sweet, sweet guilt free sick days (as opposed to my other sick days which are inevitably hangover-guilt ridden) but no, the little fuckwit waits until Friday night to really pounce. No booze for Megan (well, not as much as I'd bloody like) and, because I live in goddamn Germany) no fun drugs either. It baffles me that you cannot get so much as a cold compress without a prescription here. I am rationing my imported Day Nurse like it's smack, but after that it's bloody Salbei sweets and Erkaeltungs Tee for muggins here.

Moan, moan, bitch, complain, ugh, sorry. Happy New Year Leute! Bit belated but, you know, bit lazy. Anyone make any resolutions? I did, I think. I was incredibly drunk on New Year's Eve, but I think I vaguely remember some redemptive contemplation between the Hendrick's Gin, Buckfast, "Dolan Bombs"* and rebel songs being sung around the kitchen table.

Don't complain about my work unless I'm doing it constructively. Grown-up, professional meetings with the bosses= good. Moaning "but whyyyyy are theeeeeey sooooo eeeeeevil???" over and over to anyone fool enough to listen= bad.

Spend more time, and dare I say it, money on my appearance. Call me shallow (the reasoning behind why I think you shouldn't I am currently too achy to go into) but 2010's looks of choice (Colourblind Trannie, Mental Childcare Professional, and, my personal favourite, Really Boring Ugly Person) left me feeling a little cold, not to mention dispirited, cranky and crap.

See more live music. I think I saw about one and a half bands play last year, and that's just silly. I'd like to blame Berlin and it's, admittedly pretty poor, indie music scene, but I wasn't even trying. You have to be in it to win it! 

Eat less. Move more.

Wish me luck!!

* Dolan Bombs are, allegedly, a variation of the Jaeger Bomb created by our good family friends the Dolans. As far as I can gather, it involves pouring a lot of different alcohols into some form of disgusting energy drink and forcing people to drink it really fast. Explanation or even justification escapes me.