Just kill me. Seriously, just put me out of my fucking misery and kill me.
I am paying for all the fun last night. Epic fun. There were drinks, there were more drinks, there were deviled eggs, there was a cute 23 year old whom I totally should have gone home with. Only then I started thinking that I could totally be his mom and if I had been on MTV’s 16 and Pregnant that one of my kids could have grown up with him – which means I would have been molesting my kid’s friend. That totally kills the vibe. Then there was more drinking. I have vague memories of being at dinner. Here’s an example of how wasted I was. I ordered a hamburger, and then when the brought it out I was so surprised and confused that they had brought me a hamburger when I didn’t order one. Oh, nice.
Then my drunk ass took the 12:49 train from the city. Yeah, I was the drunk bitch who passed the fuck out on the train. Thankfully, I didn’t miss my stop.
Somehow I managed to stumble home, threw my coat on the floor and stomped up the stairs. Only to find that I had stripped the bed of all the sheets. A normal drunk person would have just said, “fuck it” and passed out without the sheets. No, but NO, my drunk ass decided to make the bed at 2 in the morning.
Fast forward to 7:00 this morning when the hangover hit. So I decided to pretend it wasn’t happening – if I just closed my eyes and talked myself out of it it would go away, right? Yeah, that shit doesn’t work on hangovers. 2:00 PM was the magic hour when I finally got my ass up out of bed. It’s 6.5 hours later and I’m ready to go back to bed for the night.
Now the only thing that remains is the desire to die.