Friday, June 27, 2008

Don't Tell Anyone, But I'm Still Drunk!

I am not as young as I used to be. I am not a rock star. Somehow, I forgot these two crucial facts when I decided to get obliterated last night with my friend. I ended up staying at her place and sleeping in my clothes because I was so wasted I just crawled into her bed and pulled the covers over my drunk ass head. The last time I can remember going to work in such a state was five years ago after being backstage or VIP whatever at the O Town album release party. Do you remember them? Oh yeah. I totally hung out with them. And their moms. And got tanked on free appletinis.

Last night, there were no pseudo rock stars. Only some testosterone enhanced Marines and bartenders we know that kept filling our glasses. This morning, I kept hitting snooze and tried to forget about Responsibility. My head hurt. Even my tongue hurt. I eventually made my way out of bed and peed, thinking to myself, "I need clothes. I can't make it all the way to my place."

So I took all my clothes off and wandered around the room opening drawers and closets. I think I forgot that you usually don't take your clothes off til you have new ones to put on. Then I wandered into the bathroom and brushed my hair and put it up. I sat down on the toilet, but I forgot I already peed. I may have even fallen asleep for a moment. Then, realizing I was forgetting something, I remembered that, "Oh yeah!" I still didn't have clothes on. So I finally found some to put on. Mission accomplished.

I felt good about myself and my level of functioning til I decided there was no way in hell I could manage to walk in heels when I could only manage to shuffle my feet so I started out on a journey to find flip flops. Literally, I got so lost and confused, I opened closet doors and stuck my head down towards the shoes calling out, "Flip flops? Flip flops!" I have some white shoes on that are, of course, too small for me, but much more manageable than my high heels. They’re more cute than practical, reminding me of the night I packed while drunk and only packed wedges because I had a dream I was Sarah Jessica Parker.

I knew I needed a pick-me-up so I went to Dunkin Donuts. On the way, I got some asinine text from my token Republican friend bragging about the Supreme Court decision yesterday on the DC gun ban. I'm normally not into having political conversations because I really hate listening to stupidity, but especially not today. If I normally don't have the energy for political debates, I especially don't when I barely have the energy to snarf down a greasy breakfast sandwich with the square egg.

Proud of myself for sidestepping a political conversation, I was standing in the Dunkin line when I saw a firefighter I recognized. Oh great. That's just what I need. A conversation about my ex when I'm so hungover I can't even read the words on the donut menu or decide whether I want a medium or large iced coffee. I think when breakfast is too complicated, one should not have serious conversations about what went wrong in one's previous relationship. I dodged him. Phew.

I finally made it on the bus, more proud of myself for that feat than of anything else in my life, and found myself sitting across from a super hot guy. Super Hot Guy looked at me (thank God for sunglasses), and I had a flash of me stroking his naked Super Hot Arms. And then it hit me. I'm still drunk. Dear Lord, have mercy.


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