Where did all my energy go?

Well, it's Thursday then. I went out with Rachel on Tuesday night and had a bit of a queasy one. That could explain why I felt so shite yesterday at the gym. Yesterday was the hardest time I've had so far. I though I was going to die - or at least yawn my dinner all over the exercise bike.
So, Tuesday we went to a local pub that has live bands on (quite good ones usually) hoping to hear some good music in a lively venue. Turns out the band had cancelled and so, it seems, had the rest of the world. There was me, Rachel, the barman and nobody else at all. Most strange. We had a beer there and chatted to the lonely looking barman for a while and then hreaded back to familiar territory. Noticed a strange smell in PK's (the next pub we went to), the cause of which, it later became apparent, was the guy who had been to the italian restaraunt over the road and then promptly giggled pasta all over the pub. It was horrific. Sorry to go on about it but it was fucking huge. Inches deep. When they finally get round to making the Hollywood blockbuster movie of my life they'll need some green screening and CGI techniques to get it all in. Eeewwww. Went home drunk and sick feeling. Thanks mate, you big vom fountain.
Went out last night with The Kev and Lovely Jane. Lovely Jane (also known as Little Jane) does exactly what it says on the tin. She's lovely. She's an accountant with body-piercings, tattoos and dreadlocks. She was in a motorbike accident in February that messed her up. Actually, that's wrong - she was the bike accident. She stoved her SV650 into two lines of stationary traffic at speed and pinballed down in between the two lanes, breaking her hip, leg, hand ribs and just about everything else in the process. I was supposed to meet her in the pub that night and I got a call from a friend telling me what had happened. I remember walking into the hospital that and seeing her in the bed with the only free moving, unplastered thing being her left hand which was thrumming away on a morphine-clicker. As I walked in and saw her she rolled her eyes towards me and just said in an exasperated voice: "Oh God. You're not going to start fucking crying as well, are you?"
Anyway, at the time they said she'd be hospitalised and wheelchair bound for six months but she was out in six weeks and trundles around happily on crutches at the moment. What a star.
Can't even remember where I was going with that one but hey, at least you got to meet Lovely Jane...