My weekend

I woke up one morning and suddenly remembered why I don't drink very often.
It all came rushing back to me in a flash.

The following may or may not have happened. It's really a mystery, not only to you, but also to me. My memory is warped and missing pieces, but these things are based on fact. I think.

Day One. In no particular order.

Being carded at the door, by a man who claimed to be the first straight guy on the cover of Gay Chicago. I was truly flattered. My friend was not carded. Burn.

Placing a $5 bill in a gay porn star's white man panties, while he was dancing on the bar, then grabbing his shwantz, which was in the full and upright position. You know, they say most gay porn stars aren't gay.

Feeling the need to yell "woo!" at every person I passed as I was leaving the bar. Most wooed back.

Telling a 6'2", 220 lb man, who can bench double my weight, that I can take him down in 20 seconds. Then proceeding to hang from his neck like a monkey, until I fell directly onto my left butt cheek, which has developed into a bruise roughly the size of a medium dog.

Calling a friend and telling her I loved her with all my heart, and I wanted to be stranded on a desert island with her. This I heard second hand, as I have no memory of calling her.

Playing Rock Band and singing "Truckin'", knowing every word. Thinking I'm the shit, then realizing I'm pretty much not. Missing every other note on the guitar set to easy. I gave up pretty quickly and moved on to other fun times, such as taking pictures of an 18 year old's chest. And dancing. A lot.

Running into a (new)co-worker at the gay bar, having a heart to heart with her in the ladies bathroom, which was quickly interupted by two drag queens dressed as flight attendants. I don't remember much about the deep conversation except my co-worker telling me how much she loved Teagan, but "fuck Sara!" I think I agreed.

Hugging everyone, and telling my little brother how much I loved him. Oh yes, I was that girl.

Everyone telling me I should drink more often because I'm so hilarious! And so much fun! Compliment or insult? You decide.

Drunken Ex Sex.

Day Two.

2 hours after falling asleep, I wake up starving and make scrambled eggs with cheese. I lay back down truly doubting this decision and finally forget my nauseous stomach long enough to sleep for a couple hours.

Being woke up with a request to go buy alcohol. I wait in line at the liquor store, arms completely full, unshowered, frowny-faced, for almost 20 minutes. It was a big day for liquor. The cashier cards me, and has doubts the ID is mine. She eyes me for a full 10 seconds, and finally says "You've really changed your look." I tell her I cut my hair. She then says, in the bitchiest way possible, "You must have lost a ton of weight" I still don't smile and say "Thank you." She then rambles on about how I should get a new ID and I wouldn't have this problem and finally sells me the alcohol.

I get home and make some mango-rum concoction in the Smoothie Pro, and make extra sure I can't taste anything but imitation mango syrup. I know I can't handle the taste of rum anywhere near my taste buds. Surprisingly, three drinks later my buzz is back and I end up in the hottub with way too many people.

Also a surprise was that my bathing suit was left on. Points for that, at least.

McDonalds chicken nuggets, which were banned from my diet months ago.

More Drunken Ex Sex.

Finally, sleep.

Day Three.

Awaking with a painful tickle in my throat. Everyone telling me it's because I've been yelling so much lately.
I was yelling?
I chalked it up to the "Woos"
And I was wrong.

Day Four and Five.

Confining myself to the sick room (my bedroom) with magazines, orange juice, cold medicine, my cats, and my DVR.

Conclusion: I'm too old to party. Drunkeness likes to take a big ol chomp out of my immune system.

Day Six (Today)
Still sick, but knowing I had way too much fun to not do it again.