Me, Memnoch and Gutsy.

Sorry about the late post, but me and my split lip were busy vomiting and laying down.
Split lip? Oh yes, that is exactly what I have.
I was at kickboxing this morning, well wait, let me start again, firstly I was out gallavanting about last night until all hours with French Gay, some of the Italians and more than one guy called Steve. There were cocktails and so on. It was Tuesday, what was I thinking?
I came home late,('bout 5) woke up hungover, didn't eat anything, hurried to kickboxing and this was the day Memnoch, who is a total and utter heartless bastard by the way, decided to do some conditioning training because according to him we are 'getting lazy and soft.'
Well half way throught my tenth lap of the gym I puked, no warning no nothing, I just vomited.
I won't bore you all with the details, but after I cleaned it up a disgusted Memnoch started lecturing us all on the 'temple' that is our bodies, and that if we 'abuse the temple' the 'temple' will fall. Then the stupid psycho made us spar and he chose me to demonstrate some moves. So after holding up the focus pads for what seemed like an age, my arms trembling with exertion, I mistakenly thought he had called switch. So I dropped my left pad and WAP!! I got suckerpunched in the mouth.
Hence the lip.
And also I was sick again. And yes, that might be sissy and girlie and whatever else anyone wants to say about it, but that's what happens to me when I can't see straight and my pain threshold has been breached. I puke.
Then Memnoch lectured me soome more and told me to go home.
So here I am, home, bloodied, beaten, feeling miserable and totally disgusted with myself. I'm going off the booze for a while too, at least until I can get back to the shape I was in a few months back. Very down. And I'm never like that. Very sore too. Although I've been like that before.
Most miserable.