I'm sitting at my desk. Really, that is the best they should expect from me for at least the next few hours. I wouldn't exactly describe this as a hangover, but it bears some resemblance.
Mikey (the lovely ex) and I had Birthday Dinner #2 last night at "Foveaux" in Surry Hills, which was recently voted Best New Restaurant in Sydney apparently. Chic, small, cozy and delicious. (The restaurant, not me. I'm not that cozy.) The food was stunning, the company superb of course, the service friendly and attentive without being obtrusive. Although, after Mikey mentioned to our waiter that he recognised him from somewhere, our waiter became very friendly and kept touching him on the arm and shoulder any opportunity he got.
He knows who the Daddy is.
Oh, and Unlikely Event #987: while I was standing outside the restaurant waiting for Mikey, in dark shirt, dark pants and long overcoat, a group of 4 Young Things stopped and asked me if they could go right in. Yup, they mistook me for a bouncer/door bitch! If I'd been quicker I would have refused them entry on account of Cheap Shoes, but as it was I blurted something like "Sure! I don't work here!!". Maybe not my best work.