Mmmfffmmmffmfmffmmm...Bbbllleeeccchhh

OoOoOoOoOooOOooooOOoohhh...my hay-ed. Not feeling too hot this morning. Annual work holiday party yesterday. If you wanna call it a party. The four of us...boss, Ron, the cleaning lady and I, ate lunch together. Had a little soiree, we did. What made it a soiree instead of just a plain 'ol lunch party, you ask?



Yep, that was the work fridge yesterday. WAS. It's considerably more empty of alcoholic beverages today thanks to our efforts. At least I didn't mix like I did at the holiday party two years ago. I learned my lesson the hard way. Ah yes, what a lovely memory... Let us diverge to the story of that particular work holiday party, shall we? My boss and I, my brother Steve and his friend Bill had our celebratory sushie lunch together that day. There I was, all proud of myself for always having been a "resposible drinker" never having spewed my gut loot after downing a few too many, EVER. "I'm fine", I thought, after two glasses of champagne (DEADLY) and two more glasses of wine. "I'm swell", I still thought, after two beers and a vodka and water drink. "Ev-er-ee-thingz juss daaaaandy", runs through my slushy mind after two MORE beers (by this time my boss had gone home and we'd left my workplace to go hang Bill's place) and a toke off a pipe.

We continued to hang out, drink I think I had one more beer) listen to music, talk...and then...*gurgle* *gurgle* "UH-OH" *gurgle* "SHIT" *gurgle* "I godda go to thu..." *bleeuurrbblshtthffff* You ever try to hold back the inevitable? Silly question, I know. By now my brother had left and it was just Bill and I listening to music while I tried to sober up enough to drive home. Bill's passed out on the bed and I'm over on the couch fighting the waves of nausea. For a half an hour. Until I finally realized I had to get to the bathroom before I...too late. Puked down the front of my sweater. Of course, before the puke landed on my sweater I was feebly trying to hold it in my mouth. Ugh...I'm making myself feel worse as I write this. I look over at Bill and he is indeed passed out. I go into the bathroom and proceed to puke more 'cause, you know, holding it in my mouth with all it's acid-y goodness doesn't quite help with keeping those waves of nausea from becoming behemoth bursts of barf. During my misery I manage to miss the toilet, not entirely, and get some of that lumpy, foamy goodness on the bathroom carpet. I then proceed to try to clean myself and the floor up with none other than WET TOILET PAPER. I couldn't very well use the guys towels. I was fucking MORTIFIED. I came out of the bathroom and Bill was awake. He knew what was going on. I think it was three a.m. when I was finally able to stumble outta there and drive home. Bill followed me to the freeway to make sure I was okay. I shudder to think of the state I left his bathroom...I don't remember how well I did with the wet toilet paper! Haven't spoken to him since, as he was just an aquaintence of my brother's who happened to help us unload our container that year.

The next morning, after two hours of "sleep", I made my hungover way to work. I felt horrid but had to go to work because my boss had left to spend the holidays with his family in the midwest. I had to run the office. While running to the bathroom every ten minutes or so to drive the porcelain bus. My boss called to check in and I tried my best not to sound demolished. Oh the hell. By the time the end of the day finally came, I was feeling a little better because I'd managed to keep some dry bread down.

I'm proud to say that I haven't done anything that horrible drinking-wise since. Well, only once. But I only puked once and then it was over. Today I just feel a tinge of squeemish tummy. The headache was squelched some by my friends aspirin and tea. I was smart to stick with mostly beer yesterday. Had some wine with lunch. The cleaning lady left first, then Ron had to go to work and it was just my boss and I hangin' for a while. It was fun talking to him, he's such a nice down to earth guy. He left 'cause he had to get up waaay early this morning to catch a plane back home. I stayed and tooled on the internet a bit 'til I felt good enough to drive. Got home at about nine, got undressed and went to bed. I should have downed some more water before I hit it though, 'cause I had those thirsty dreams again. I hate those. Then I woke up with leather tongue when Ron got home. He brought be a glass of water after saying, "PHEW...you smell like alcohol!" Thanks, honey. I'm glad I felt good enough to drive well. If I'd have gotten pulled over...shit, I don't even wanna think about it. Heh. And I downed that glass of water like I hadn't had a drink in days. Spilled it all over the bed. Asked for more and did the same thing, this time spilling it on my front. Then I zonked out on my wet bed. Joy.

My, this turned into quite the entry, didn't it? It's slow today, of course. I'm in no mood to work, either. Psshhht. What else is new? But I really should get to a few things. And some dry bread sounds great right about now. Later!