Accidentally getting mashed

It's a Midday, on a Tuesday.

I imagine a large portion of the population are currently at work or school, even those that aren't are almost certainly doing something productive after getting up before 12pm.
I however, am watching Made in Chelsea in bed with breath like a dead tree frog, a hangover the size of Harry Style's ego and a best friend next to me who's dead to the world.

My situation is, shockingly, not an uncommon one to find myself in- getting accidentally mashed and spending the next day in a state of semi-comatose whilst crying about everything from a touching Disney film to my Dad making me a cup of tea due to an extreme case of emotional imbalance- is a regular occurrence in my life. However last night (and subsequently this morning) are products of a phenomenon which has danced into my existence like Anna and Vronsky since I turned 18- getting accidentally mashed.
  I'm not going to pretend that I never had a drink before I was legal, that would be a despicable lie of Profumo Affair proportions. Even saying I had 'had a drink' before I was legal would be dishonesty on the Tony Blair scale. 'Had a drink' implies a glass of champagne at a family wedding or a few cans a friend's parent bought us to drink on their birthday. In actual fact before I was legal getting completely blotto was a regular activity. Vodka, Lambrini, Strongbow at every party, on the park, birthday or not. But my realization this morning, epiphany if you will, is that all those things were planned. I knew when I was going to be drinking- the alcohol had to be bought in advance by somone's older sibling or a trek had to be made to a shady shop in a far off corner of town where they don't 'ID'. Now I'm a grown up every off license, pub and club is my personal playground! 
  Last night my bestie came to see me, so obviously I bought a bottle for us to share as a friendly gesture. I would point out I cooked for her as well so the evening was meant to be sophisticated. After eating some pasta bake we promptly drank the 2 litre bottle of Lamrbini I'd bought (in half an hour) and decided to go to the pub. I didn't get too dressed up thinking it would just be one pint at the local. A collective 4 pints, 2 double G&Ts and 8 shooters of apple sourz later and after the social mortification of the barman assuming I wasn't buying a round because I'm unemployed we stumbled back to Chez Gallagher. Bought chips on the way home, cracked open a bottle of wine and essentially chatted shit until 3 30am. 
  This wasn't planned. In fact it stealthed up on me, which is why when I woke up with a dry mouth, aching limbs and a head with an extremely untalented Dubstep DJ trapped inside it (all of which can only mean one thing) I didn't understand how it had happened.

  I give you accidentally getting mashed- unexpectedly ruining my mornings since 28/04/12.

 Sooo now I have a blog.

PEOPLE have been saying I should have one for a while so I thought I'd get on it.

Don't quite know what this will be about so I'll just keep it simple and say my life...

which could mean that this will involve anything from fashion to angry rants

In a bit (if anyone's listening)