Someday I will be able to appreciate a Saturday or Sunday morning and not have to struggle to regain my humanity through the dark cloud of a ridiculously painful hangover. But from the looks of it, that day is far far away. Here's another weekend recap that I may as well have just copied over from a couple of months ago, cause god knows it's the same old shit.
Met up with The Flattie and crew for more than a few Carlton Draughts. After a few hours they apparently thought it was time to have dinner, which was my queue to head to another bar (Eating is cheating!) and keep hope alive. Hope of developing early cirrhosis of the liver, anyway. Ended up at the usual bars, intermittently dancing and commenting on how gross everyone is (although I doubt anyone thought I was looking so hot after 9 hours of drinking on an empty stomach) and decided it was time to put down the beer when I hit "The Wall", when you know that taking just one more sip of that drink will result in either vomiting or doing something stupid and getting kicked out of the bar. Stumbled into the apartment at 3am or so (that's an extremely rough estimate) so I could wake up on Saturday and do it all over again.
Actually managed to stay away from the booze until about 5pm on Saturday. At that point I went over to a friend's place to "help them move". Thank god they know me so well and weren't too offended, since my version of "helping someone move" is sitting there with the two bottles of wine I bought on the way over and talking about myself while they unpack boxes and slide heavy furniture from one side of the apartment to another.
Eventually made it over to a dinner party about three hours late so I could drink more wine and be conned into even more tequila shots by people who were apparently entertained by my performance last weekend. Promptly passed out on the couch and had to be woken up and sent home at god knows what time in the morning. At this point I'm pretty sure they won't be engraving "WINNER" on my tombstone after I die.
Can't remember another day where I spent so much time in bed. I got up only for lunch and the pizza I ordered for dinner, because even when you feel like life isn't worth living, it's still important to shove inane amounts of junk food into your face just in case you change your mind later.
Speaking of which, it's now Monday and I was trying to figure out why I feel so crappy, and then realized that eating ice cream, leftover pizza, and drinking a huge cup of chocolate milk for breakfast at 7am probably wasn't the best way I could have started my day. Go figure.