Man, jetlag is a bitch. I think I’ve had about four breakfasts in the last 30 hours – bloody confused, I am.
Fark me, it’s certainly been an up and down couple of days! Besides barfing on the plane and smashing a zillion eppies of Everybody Hates Chris, JT and I have caught up with mates (amazing!), hit up Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the Eye, hospital … yep, HOSPITAL.
JT got some crazy-ass food poisoning from pork ribs, so he spent today with his head buried in the toilet, stuck with a portable potty as his bestie. Poor bugger. He’s asleep now. I wish I was. I’m too wired-up to sleep. I just had dinner (cheese on toast *sigh*), but my body thinks it’s morning tea and my head feels like it’s 3am. So I repeat – what motherfucking time is it?!
Going to hit the bar. Nothing more Topdeck-esque then drinking yourself to sleep, right?
Paris tomorrow. The Eiffel Tower awaits. God, I hope JT is feeling better in the morning.
PS: London’s a strange place – I feel like I’m still in Australia!
PPS: State of Origin – RUBBISH GAME.
PPPS: Night. x
