I had the mother, the father and the family dog of all spaz attacks on Tuesday night. Spaz attack being my sister's thoughtful new term for panic attack.
It was the other half's fault, he brought a massive birthday (his) hash cake home from Brighton, and because it was covered in melted dairy milk, I ate far too much of it. Went to bed an hour later, feeling quite dreamy. Lay for an hour having the most intense thoughts, mostly about my duvet cover. Woke up at about 1.30am with an overwhelming urge to lie on the bathroom floor and shake violently. Did this until 2.30 am. Never, ever, ever eating cake, or hash again. Thinking about giving up any remotely stimulating substances forever, including tea, ice cubes and television.
In other, slightly sluttier news, many more photos of the poledancing fun! Yee haw!
