Have managed only three hangovers* in 2007, a triumphant leap beyond previous years when that number was more likely per week. My binge-drinking years were not pretty... since then I've discovered that I'm a cheap date (take that as you will), more often prefer to drive myself around (thus remaining sober in the process) and provide my own getaway car, and I really don't like expensive bar tabs.
That having been said, however...
Today was the Colts/Chiefs game, a landmark event that brings friends into town and usually heralds large dinner parties and or bar crawls. This was not today's agenda, however, as I not only didn't see any of my Chiefs fan visitors but quite frankly didn't see the any of the game itself.
What was I doing, one might wonder, on this terrific Sunday afternoon?
Sleeping. Nursing off 2007 Hangover #3. I got sick. I drank milk. I clutched my temples and cursed vodka and martinis. I groaned aloud. I petered around my apartment after my 3 hour nap at a decidedly slow pace and thought about cleaning... but didn't. I brushed my teeth but decided showering required too much stamina. Smelly barwear was thrown into a heap in the corner and there it remains, marinating in the aura of last night's extravagance and bad decisions... like bringing everyone home with me and drinking more. Not smart, Allison.
At this point I'm just praying to regain strength and motivation before work tomorrow.
It was a great Saturday night, though. A great Saturday night.
*Side Note: Each hangover has involved a certain Ms. Edina. Coincidence? I think not.
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