Last night, I met some fellow Colorado bloggers for a few beers.

Living where I do, in fashionable Washington Park, one of the advantages of the location, is that downtown Denver is only a short distance away, and there's lots of public transport headed in that direction.

I headed down to the nearest Light Raiil station, with my MiniDisc walkman, in my pocket, and Snake River Conspiracy providing the soundtrack to my walk.

Their album, Sonic Jihad, includes two cover tracks, Lovesong (by The Cure) and How Soon Is Now? (by The Smiths). The Smiths track, is a superb reworking of that classic Eighties track.

I hopped on the Light Rail, and met a very nice (and cute) young lady, who chatted to me as we sped quietly downtown.

It was "Big Ass Beer Night" at the Rock Bottom Brewery. You could be forgiven for thinking, "But any kind of beer is eventually going to give you a big ass/arse", however, this refers to the fact that it's $5 for the first pint, with a decorated glass to take home, and then $2 refills. Even if you don't want the glass, you've saved money by the second pint.

The usual suspects were there, and as ever, the conversation was a real mixed bag, but we all had a good laugh.

Rain is a rare thing in Colorado, but it was pouring down as we left the bar. Boy was I glad I'd brought not only my leather jacket, but also my waterproof hat! It's one of those oilskin/waxed things, that's not going to win me any style awards, but is going to keep the rain off me.

The Light Rail journey back was a blur, partly because of the rain on the windows, and partly because of the stout in my bloodstream.

Now, the thing to remember about Denver, is that we're a mile above sea-level. Therefore, any alcohol has almost double the effect that it does at sea-level. This effect is worsened, however, when you totally forget to drink any water before retiring for the night.

So this morning, I awoke, rather too early, my head pounding. Rutger, one of my cats, was banging on the bedroom door, demanding that I get my sorry arse out of bed and feed him.

I opened the door. The full morning crew was there. Two dogs and one cat. Benny doesn't climb upstairs these days, as due to his diabetes, he has some nerve problem that gives him what the vet calls, "Plantigrade Stance". I call it, "Charlie Chaplin Walk". For his birthday, I'm buying him a set of baggy pants and a little moustache.

Eventually, I made it downstairs. Now here are some things you should not have to deal with, when you're hung-over, and feeling like puking:

1) An incessantly noisy, squawking cat
2) Cat food, particularly the tinned meat variety
3) Hypodermic needles
4) Cat or dog vomit

Well, I scored a hat-trick. For once, no-one had vomited overnight. I say, "for once" because it's a regular occurrence in my house. The dogs do it because whilst out walking, they eat too much grass, and then sic it up back home. The cats do it, just to piss me off.

Job one, was making a BIG mug of tea. That done, cats fed, and Benny given his insulin shot, I retired to my boudoir, with the tea, my iBook and my sore head. The dogs all climbed on the bed, and we watched the rerun of last night's The Screensavers.

I'm starting to worry that Miles has watched too much Tech TV, because when someone on the show mentioned Windows ME, he let out a big sigh.

The tea wasn't working for me this morning. So as Emeril would say, I "kicked it up a notch", and made coffee. No milky latté for me this morning, just plain old cuppa joe, with a toast chaser.

That did the trick. I felt a lot better. So did Rutger who, when I wasn't looking, helped himself to some of my toast.