Booze, drugs, Nazis, etc

The ever wonderful Gridskipper points out an uprising of mid-West Nazism, which serves as a rejoinder to all the Santa-led anarchism from Santacon...
Anyways, I went to get a massage on Thursday night (at the alliterative Clapham Common Clinic), because on Tuesday night I did this and by Wednesday morning my left shoulder blade had a lump of muscle solidifying around it. My redoubtable masseuse, while spending half an hour working out the various knots and lumps around my shoulder (and god, it was sore for the next three days), dropped into conversation that it was the left shoulder because I was drinking too much, and that I could probably do with 3 days detox, and while she was at it, you only saw this level of disorganisation and disobedience in the musculature of the terminally alcholic. So maybe it was time for a break.
But these days, I view booze a bit like Anquetil did amphetamines - [ I'll only use it when absolutely necessary. When is it absolutely necessary? Almost all the time ] - so undaunted I went out on Friday night to a Hat Party in Brixton. Which wasn't very impressive. Seven people a party does not make, especially when they'd hired the whole back room of the Canterbury Arms, and then played some stultifying music. Hey ho. Home by midnight, awake again by 1pm on Saturday.
Thus Saturday a bit of a write off. Went for a run, but managed to misread my Garmin so badly that I thought I'd done 10k in 40 minutes, when in point of fact I'd burnt 1000 calories. There is a small yet substantial difference between these measurements, but at least I'm not confused any more. Out for a quiet drink with 12 Stone and Jason Stopadoodledoo in Carshalton, and then back home, to find the sister asleep on the sofa. Attempts to rouse her failed, so I left her to it, went to bed and then awoke at three to find she'd risen up and turned the TV back on. So not much sleep before Sunday.
Sunday: viewed babies, played with cats. Out for a meal without booze (a first, and mildly disappointed not to get to Mildred's, but that will teach you to go to a restaurant and not ensure that it's open on Sundays first) with a delectable somebody, and then back home to bed. Stifled a chortle at my sister's dismay as one of her kittens urinated on her bedsheets, and thus to bed. This is hardly Pepys, is it?
Oh, and only read two things this week - the guilty pleasure of the Glass Books of the Dream Eaters, which is one of the few things I've read recently that has got better as it's progressed (although that might not be saying much) and Advanced Marathoning which is very very good indeed. Although I'm not quite sure if it's wise to go for your black belt, your MA and a marathon in the same year, especially if you're aiming at knocking a lot out of your previous best...