I do not feel OK this morning. Mike tried to wake me but it’s a no go. I hear him, Troy, Ron and Phyllis out in the kitchen but I can’t seem to move. Finally, I get up and join them. OJ and water: stat. No coffee when I’m hung over. The stinger and the grand marnier definitely put me over the edge. We chat but I can’t really remember about what. Phyllis tells me food will make me feel better. I always think food will make me feel better.
As soon as breakfast is ready we all move to the table. I do crave greasy food when I’m hungover, and this looks delicious: some kind of ham and cheese bake with a side of over-easy gooey eggs. I dig in. Part of me wants to dip this thing in ketchup but I refrain from asking. I feel like it’s when you ask for steak sauce before you’ve even tasted the meat: it’s rude. Phyllis and Ron keep us entertained with stories and I try to keep myself at the table. I might pass out or throw up. But I never throw up, so probably just pass out.
This is true. The only time I ever throw up is if I have a stomach virus, which thankfully, doesn’t happen very often. There were many times in my life when I was so drunk that it probably would have been better if I threw up before I went to bed, but I just can’t. Sarah experienced this the hard way. It was my senior year at college, but I was home visiting on Halloween weekend. Dressed as a “sexy” referee. I hate slutty Halloween costumes, OK? Let me just put that out there. This was probably my first slutty one and it wasn’t even that bad…just short. Freshman year I was fat Dorothy. Fat because I just did gain some weight freshman year, but really fat because the costume made me look HORRIBLE. Sophomore year I dressed as Harry Potter. That was awesome. I was so excited to wear my shirt and Hogwarts tie with my Harry glasses and the scar on my head; wand in one hand and Hedwig in the other. Until I was actually out at parties with all the slutty girls and the guys looking at me like….oh wait, they didn’t look at me at all. I don’t remember what I dressed up as junior year. Maybe I blacked out. So senior year, I was a slutty ref.
Here’s the story: I’m home with the fam drinking before we head to Hollywood (the local bar where you see everyone you went to high school with…so not good). I believe I had two apple martinis. Never drink the stuff, so I was definitely feeling good before we left. I went with Sarah to the bar to meet up with a bunch of friends. Once there, I had a drink…and then….the bartender poured shots. Hate thinking about this part. What is it? “Liquid cocaine.” OK, that should have been a clear cut sign. DON’T DRINK THIS. But it didn’t stop me. Bacardi 151 is in it. He lit it on fire or something ridiculous. As soon as I swallowed it was over. I covered my mouth and did a lap around the bar. That’s the last I remember. I think I had my head down on a table somewhere when LMonny went up to my sister. “You need to take Lindsay home.” “What are you talking about? We just got here.” “She has to leave now.” Sarah looked over at me. “She’s fineee.” I guess then she really took notice to, I don’t know, something, and realized I really did have to leave.
Pulls up to my parents’ house. The twins have some friends over. Sarah calls Christine. “I need you to come help me.” Chris comes out and sees Sarah pulling a sack out of the passenger seat. She soon realizes that it’s not a sack, it’s Lindsay. The two carry me inside and up the stairs to the bathroom. I surely make a fool of myself in front of all the visitors. Sarah then stays with me in the bathroom and tries to help me throw up. At one point, she has her entire fist down my throat. Nothing. Mom wakes up and the two debate whether or not to take me to the hospital. “Well at least we know she’s not bulimic!” I know, that’s not really funny. But it kind of is. The year before, I did lose a lot of weight and they were all worried about me. No, I wasn’t throwing up – Sarah was right. Wasn’t healthy either, though. I got really good at eating very little and working out a lot. Finally, I keep apologizing to Sarah. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Kristin. Sarah’s ears perk up. Kristin? Are you f***ing kidding me? Kristin was one of my best friends at college, and the one who had to take care of me a lot. Sarah is livid that I think Kristin is helping me and not her. The point is, it was a bad night. One of my worst. There were others, though…
It’s difficult to keep my head off the table. After breakfast I head right to the bed. I need to lay down. Mike lays with me for a bit. I finally get my stuff together and head back out to the living room to chat for a bit with Ron and Phyllis before we leave. They’ve put together some food to take with us including shrimp wonton soup, some awesome cheeses, crackers, string cheese, and leftover pound cake from the night before. “I hope you’re not insulted that we made you a care package!” Are you kidding me, Phyllis?! This is amazing. I thank her and Ron as much as I can. “You make sure you stay in touch and come visit whenever you like. We’ll feed you!” They walk us out to the car. Troy has offered to drive. Thank God. It’s a gorgeous day. I sit in the back seat and we roll our windows down, waving to Ron and Phyllis as we drive past. Immediately, I lay down and pass out for the almost three hour ride home.
I feel much better when we get back to our place, but still know that today is shot. All I want to do is lay, shower, and veg. Mike is game (no surprise there). I know I should write because I’m way behind, but I’m only working Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday this week, so I’ll have plenty of time to get after it. It becomes a Breaking Bad marathon (we’re on Season 2). For dinner we have shrimp wonton soup and cheese and crackers (obviously). We also try out my new tea maker and it’s SO GOOD.
Head to bed, but stay up late reading Dragon Tattoo. Almost finished.