It’s 2:00 in the afternoon, I’m in a tropical paradise, and all I want to do is die. If I weren’t so hungover I’d pull myself out of bed, fling the sliding glass doors open, and jump off my balcony. Sadly, I’m too scared to do it. Not because I don’t want to die, but because I’m afraid that moving that much would make me vomit. Again.
Fuck you, tequila. Fuck you.
I should have trusted my judgment and told the waiter to run away with his unopened bottle of tequila last night. Instead Oingo Boingo and I proceeded to rip it open and pour it down everyone’s throats. I know I did at least four shots…and that’s on top of the mixed drinks and champagne.
I woke up several hours later, naked in my bed. How I managed to take my contacts out without losing an eye is beyond me. Too bad I only managed to put one away. The other is lost. Glasses for the rest of the trip! Not that it matter because I’ll probably die in this room.
What will they tell my mother?