In college, I justifiably earned myself the nickname “pukey.” It never t0ok much – sometimes I could drink one lite beer and find myself puking either that night or the next morning. Of course, sometimes I drank 10+ bevvys, all distilled or brewed in a different manner, which led to the “promise of pukes.” I’ve gotten better about not puking, but sometimes my body is all “bitch, I thought I TOLD you mama said NAH!” and then I get to re-live being 20 all over again. Yip-fuckin-ee!
Today I have a dorm-era-worthy hangover. Nothing says “grown-up” and “classy” quite like being mid-convo with a friend and having to hang up saying “I’m sorry, hun, but I need to go vomit.” Goodbye juice. Goodbye advil. Goodbye dignity. My headache is starting to subside a bit, but my face still feels puffy, like I got stung by bees all night long and didn’t realize it. But no, I’ve checked. No bees. Just booze. My face appears to be full of booze. And I’ll tell you what: It is NOT a good look.
How did I get this hangover, you might be asking. Well, let’s be honest… you probably aren’t asking. But it’s my blog and the cool thing about it is that it doesn’t require your input to get written, so let’s just roll with the donkey punches, ok? I got this hangover by drinking the following things – in this order: red wine, coffee (with 36% fat extra heavy whip cream… thanks, Annie and Dom!), Tecate, whisky, greyhound (vodka/grapefruit. I’m still vegetarian and I don’t eat dogs), whisky, PBR, greyhounds. This combination shall henceforth be called “the recipe for HOLY GEEZ OWWW MY HEAD HURTS”.
But you know what? It was worth it. Because the wine and coffee means I got to be present at the wedding of two really good people and spend an evening with wonderful friends eating illegally-large amounts of really really good cheese. And then I got to meet new beautiful souls, listen to good beats, dance with lovelies, and THEN I got to be present for this exchange:
Alex: I need to get something that costs $6 because there’s a $10 minimum.
me: ok. Sir, how much is a shot of Crown?
me: perfect. I’ll take one of those. Is that ok with you, Alex?
Alex: sure. Um, bartender? Here’s the thing. Is there any way you could go ahead and charge me $6 for the shot? I just need to get to the minimum is all…
bartender: well, it’s $6.50…
Alex: OH! I’m sorry! I thought you said $5.50!
me: Wow! I really thought you were going to win on that one! Flea market bars could be the wave of the future! (at which point I got slapped. totally worth it.)
My friends are rad. People always say that, but in this case, it’s actually true. Here’s a good litmus test: Do your friends bring you ring pops just because? If the answer is no, that’s fine. Don’t ditch the friends you have. But for the love of everything good in the world, go out and find yourself one friend who will.
Fast-forward to now, I’m laying in my bed in a pathetic heap of last night’s makeup, this morning’s jelly beans, and reading about my astrological compatibility in love. This website says I need to stay well away from Leos, Libras, Sagittariuses, and Geminis, I need to get acquainted with some Pisces, Scorpios, Cancers, Capricorns, and some Tauruses. Well, website, how ’bout this idea: I do what I want, and you and I just hope for the best, mmmkay? Someone please bring me a big big breakfast burrito. And some more juice. No? Ugh. Fine. I’ll go get it myself. Right after I puke one more time.