As I tell this story, it is midday the day after, I have the queen bitch of all hangovers and there is a slow cooker with what looks like a delicious curry going on my bench. My head is infested with the stings of a thousand needles, the sun is beating into the side of my face through the crack in the curtains, the TOSSERS at the construction site over the road are sharing a joke that is no doubt HILARIOUS and the sooner these panadol start working, the better. My blood feels like sand.
To try and make some sense of the night, I'm having a look through the pictures on my phone:
Ok, I'm starting to remember this now.
This was such a great idea last night - I made a curry paste of coriander, cumin, chilli, ginger, turmeric and cinnamon, and then I chucked a bunch of frozen spinach in there to top it off. "Wake up to a delicious curry", I thought.
Such a great idea.
I also added half a bottle of coke, a splash of vodka and a bit of sugar.
Then, I got stupid:
HMM, LAMB SHANK. GREAT IDEA, TOM
Just before bed, I added a lamb shank. I have no idea why i thought a pork and lamb green curry would be a good thing, but then again i have no idea why I drank twelve beers and then moved on to red wine. Life can be strange that way. All I know is that while my hangover tells me I made some bad decisions last night, my nose tells me that I made at least one good one. This curry smells AMAZING.
So here I am, with the kind of hangover that makes me want to inflict pain on innocent people, with some kind of delicious frankenstein curry on my bench, wondering what the hell to do next. I can't eat it, I can barely keep down my water and multivitamins. Every time I exhale I can taste the alcohol vapour escaping my body. I'm about to go turn on the shower, lie down in it and weep for all my wrongs.
Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair. I am gronkpan, maker of curries, eater of none.
Seriously though, I'm going to curl into the foetal position and cry on my bathroom floor now.
