Tag Archives: cocktail flu

The Truth About Getting Older

28 Apr

Let’s take a moment to talk some truths on what it’s really like to get older.  Not talking here about how wrinkles suddenly begin appearing on your forehead, or your neck.  The neck wrinkles are what really throw me.  I have a girlfriend who is six years younger than I am but she’s got the neck of a 70 year-old.  How does that happen?  At 39, I’m proud to have the neck of a 32 year old.  But do dudes really notice that?  Don’t think I’ve ever heard a dude say, “She was hot, but her neck wrinkles were a total turnoff.”

But I digress.

Let’s talk about the important stuff: how fucking terrible hangovers are when you’re older.

It’s cute when I hear my young friends say shit about how they were hungover.  How they had a tinge of a headache, took an hour nap, and then felt so much better.  I remember those days – about 20 years ago.  A hangover in college was nothing – it literally felt like I was about to get a bit of a headache.  All it took was a glass of water, a 15 minute nap, and I was golden.  Fast forward two decades and it almost feels like I need to call 911, have a full blood transfusion, a new liver, and a lobotomy to feel better.  Fucking worst.

The really stupid part is that they’re so easily avoidable, I mean, how hard is it to just say no to that one last drink?  That delicious drink that is heaven in a glass?  My limit is four – I know it is – and yet there are times when I think to myself that as long as I drink another glass of water that I’ll be fine.  Then 3 hours later I’m laying in my bed having a panic attack because I know the hangover is going to get me.  A legitimate panic attack – not awesome.

For those of you who are still young, here are all the awesome things you have to look forward to:

  • Headaches: headaches that feel like your brain will explode out of your forehead causing your eyes to pop out, and then your brain to ooze out of your eye sockets.
  • Dry mouth: the Mojave dessert will reside in your mouth.  No amount of lip smacking, tongue tapping, or water will be able to quench the dryness that settles in your mouth.  You could take a match and strike it on the roof of your mouth.
  • Queasiness and vomiting: you will want to vomit the world.  Your stomach will rumble, and you probably won’t be able to hold down the water that would actually help you get rid of the hangover.  There will even come a moment in the middle of the night where you might think, “I should probably just make myself get sick and I’ll feel better.”  Then while you’re vomiting last night’s half digested pepperoni pizza you come to the realization that no, vomiting is going to make you feel better.  Only God striking you dead on the bathroom floor will make you feel better.
  • [And now the part that no one ever wants to talk about] Stomach cramps and the big D: get ready for (I’m struggling to actually write the word because I hate talking about it so much that I’m just procrastinating and trying to avoid it but I feel like I need to tell you how it really is so I’m talking myself into it and trying to avoid it all at the same time so I just am trying to figure out how to just write it and it’s making me nervous and grossed out at the same time but here we go so get ready…) explosive diarrhea.  It’s going to happen.  You, my friend, are going to get to a moment when you say to yourself, “I am rotting from the inside.”  It’s going to happen, and you might cry while it happens because it’s so incredibly disgusting, and you should cry.  Because you did that to yourself.  You did that – you made your body do that and it’s your fault.

Typical recovery time can be anywhere from 24 to 48 hours.  No joke.  And I’ll tell you what?  They morning you wake up after having fought off the hangover is like being totally reborn.  You could conquer the world you feel so fucking amazing.  And three days later when you’re at Happy Hour and you’re still apprehensive about whether or not you should have one more drink, I hope you remember when you were sobbing on the toilet because your insides were coming out your backside.

And that, young friends, is what you have to look forward to.

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The cost of adulthood

27 Feb

As a college student getting drunk was a breeze.  All it took was a combination of hard liquor and watered down shitty beer, or watered down shitty alcohol.  My fave combos consisted of:

  • 1 mind eraser, and a pitcher of Coors Light
  • 1 shot of Goldschlager, and 4 Long Island Iced Teas

Total cost?  Approximately $10-15 per drunken night.  Hangovers?  Nope, none at all.  Ah, the good old days when my body could handle the booze.  I’d wake up the next day and was perfectly fine.

The cost of a drunken stupor now is far more expensive – in more ways than one.  You couldn’t pay me to drink Coors Light now, and a mind eraser with a Long Island Iced Tea would probably be enough to cause a blackout.  Instead I find myself enjoying fancy cocktails that look like art in a glass and cost $10-15 per drink.  My max is usually around 4, BUT a few weekends ago my bill came out to $156.  I have no fucking clue how that happened – that’s what happens when you blackout, you don’t remember shit.

Last night my friend from college came into town.  On his way to meet me for dinner he alluded to a night of drunken debauchery for which we would both pay in the morning.  Fearing the hangover at an 8:30 meeting I was smart enough to pace myself and enjoyed only four glasses of wine with plenty of water.  He enjoyed his vodka tonic, five glasses of red wine, and beer.

At about 11 this morning he sent me a text saying that he was so hungover he thought he had died and was suffering in hell.

I love when other people are hungover and I’m not.

The morning after

2 Nov

I want to vomit and I want to die. Though not necessarily in that order. Long night of drinking turns into a long day of cocktail flu. Swore up and down I wouldn’t drink that much and wouldn’t stay out too late.

Four cocktails and two beers later I looked at the clock and noticed it was past 1:00 in the morning. Guess I was wrong. Thank god I didn’t order one last round at 1:30. Can only imagine how amazing having my stomach pumped would feel.

But we had such a magical and romantic time. He spent hours talking about his wife, and how if she ever cheated he’d leave her, and how he knew they’d be together forever, and how lucky they both felt to have found one another, and how much he loved their new baby. Really romantic. And then there was that awesome time when we were at the bar and our legs accidentally touched so he totally readjusted himself and moved as far away as possible without actually changing seats. It was great.

I want to vomit.  And die.

And then make out with him.  But not necessarily in that order.

My liver’s not what it used to be

24 Oct

Here’s what I learned after my reunion with my friend from college on Monday: I’m too old to be going out on a Monday.  Three beers – with a very high alcohol content – knocked me on my old ass on Tuesday.  As a matter of fact, it’s quite possible that I’m still drunk right now.  Yes, I know it’s two days later, and yes, it’s possibly related to the fact that I had another beer today.

Sunday night it seemed like a good idea to go drinking.  Monday afternoon it seemed stupid.  Monday night it was an amazingly awesome idea.  Tuesday morning I cursed myself while dragging my ass into work.  Tuesday night I was so happy to go to sleep. And tonight going out seemed like a smart plan.

Will let you know how it all plays out tomorrow.  If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I’m too drunk to type…until Friday night when I’ll be in my pajamas by 5:30 and will be in bed shortly thereafter.

Getting old is super lame.

Graduation Day

21 May

I can tell you exactly where I was, what I wore (white pique sleeveless dress with black piping, and black sued pumps-don’t ask), and who I slept with 13 years ago today.  At this very moment, I was sitting in the Dining Hall with my family and friends celebrating my college graduation.  As a matter of fact, I believe I was on my 7th 8oz glass of lemonade.  Thank you, Alma Mater, for only offering small glasses for our drinking pleasure.

Let me tell you 4 college kids that read this blog something important: commencement is not what it’s cracked up to me.  It was so hot out that day and we had all had about 3 hours of sleep the night before.  Here’s the thing: no one bothers to mention that sitting outside with a terrible hangover on a hot day in a black freaking robe is the epitome of “miserable times”.

So you listen to me, college kids, and you listen carefully.  You need to smuggle in some stuff.  Are you taking notes?  Damn it!  Then grab a piece of paper and your #2 pencils.  We’ll wait for you while you go get that stuff.

[insert elevator music here]

Okay, now that you’re ready, here’s your list of commencement essentials:

  1. Sunglasses.  The sunlight will make your hungover, bloodshot eyes bleed if you don’t have these.
  2. Bottled Water.  The last thing you want to do is pass out on stage when they’re handing you your diploma. Granted, this would never have happened to me because there were 1400 of us and they didn’t give us this treatment.  I could, however, could have used some water because I was hot.  And parched.  And very hungover.
  3. A fan.  Did I mention how hot it is out there?

Oh, and let me tell you how awesome it is listening to people drone on and on about the future and blah, blah, blah.  It’s hard to listen to that boring ass crap motivational stuff when you are hot.  And parched.  And very hungover.  Here’s what you can do instead of trying not to die.  The second your friend falls asleep in the heat, nudge them awake and remind them how very “important” this moment is and that you don’t want them to miss anything.  Then totally ignore the angry glare they fire in your direction.

One of the best parts of graduation, aside from waking up at 7:00 AM, standing around in the parking lot for 4 hours waiting for the ceremony to begin, and trying not to die of heatstroke, was the big fat nap I took later in the day.  Nothing like a nap to celebrate your achievements.  Later that night I would end up at Plum’s one last time.

And after that I’d find myself in the arms of the Firefighter.

Dear College, I freaking miss you.

The Details

9 Jul

A few of you have asked for details from the Saturday night “festivities”. I’ll provide you with the short and sweet version, and the longer much less sweet version.  Please enjoy. . .

Short and Sweet

We were both drunk, we started hooking up at the bar and moved it over to my room. I served him up a Bartles & Jaymes, he reciprocated. We hit it and it was superb. Sadly, there was no cookie. He slept over, I kicked him out at 8:30. We met up with friends for brunch around noon. Said our goodbyes shortly thereafter, and the story ends there.

Long and Dirty

It’s been a few months since I last saw Notebook as he’s moved to another state. Somehow, he talked me into picking him up at the airport. We met at the terminal, and my God, that boy has a sweet ass body. He was wearing a polo shirt that hugged him in all the right places. Yummy! I was hoping beyond hope that we’d end up hooking up at some point, but was pretty sure that it wasn’t going to happen. We drove to the hotel, ran into the groomsmen and groom, met up with some friends, grabbed a bite to eat and then checked into our rooms. We had about ½ an hour to get ready and report back to the lobby for the shuttle that would take us to the wedding location.

Fast forward 30 minutes, we’re all back in the lobby. The wedding was held in this gorgeous Hunt club out in the country, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a lot of old people. This meant one thing: there were less eligible bachelorettes available to him. Unfortunately, it also meant that there would be less options for me if things didn’t pan out with Notebook. We sat together through the service (which was the most beautiful ceremony I’ve ever seen), attended the cocktail hour and then went to our table.Much to my chagrin, I realized that there were 3 other ladies sitting at our table. I was clever in my seating arrangement as I had him sit between me and our guy friend that was there-less access to the bachelorettes. When they came to the table, I realized it was all for nothing-not cute. Reception was a great time, the alcohol flowed freely, there was plenty of flirting, and zero opportunity for him to flirt with anyone else. There was, however, plenty of opportunity for me to make friends with the tall, dark, and handsome groomsman from New York.

New York was handsome, and I was warned about him. The best man and the groom himself told me he was a dog. Guess what? Dogs work pretty well for a hook up, especially ones that are as tall, dark, and handsome as New York was. Things seemed to be working out pretty well, and I took it as a good sign when the wedding party left before we did, and New York told me he’d meet me back at the hotel bar. This led me to believe that I had acquired my target for the evening.

Fast forward 30 minutes, we’re all at the bar. Some people have changed, I’m still in my kick ass dress and my gorgeous heals. I kept going back and forth between New York and Notebook. As I began complaining about how painful my shoes were, New York suggested that I run back to my room to change my shoes. My room was conveniently located down the hall from the bar-I didn’t even have to bother with the elevator. Ran to my room, ran back, handed my room key to Notebook as I had left my purse in my room, New York bought me a drink, we flirted some, then New York excused himself to run to the men’s room. At this point, I went to talk to Notebook who was sitting at the bar. He said, “come here,” grabbed the back of my head, and we started making out at the bar. Klassy. Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurred to me that New York would probably not want to hook up with me if he saw me making out with Notebook at the bar. Drunken thoughts are funny to me.

As last call had occurred, the lights had been turned on, and management had decided it was time for us to leave, Notebook was kind enough to escort me back to my room. How very convenient that he had my room key (god I’m so smart and clever sometimes). We went into the room, I turned on the lamp next to the bed, sat on the king sized bed, and he sat down next to me. We started to snog some more. Suddenly, we were horizontal.

For about 30 seconds I questioned how far I was going to let him get. Then I thought, “Fuck it. Why not just go all the way?” My dress was soon lifted, lowered and crushed between us. He had a belt that required in-depth training to figure out how to remove. He was down to nothing in about a half an hour. I was down to almost nothing shortly thereafter. I provided a synopsis of events in the Short and Sweet version, all two of you that were interested in knowing what happened will have to be satisfied with that.

We hooked up 2 years ago and I had thought that he’d be a good shag. That’s an understatement. He was superb. Why? God only knows. I think it’s a combination of factors: he’s smoking hot, we have great chemistry, he knows what he’s doing and I had wanted him for a long time. Granted, sometimes that leads to disappointment, but not in this case-he far exceeded my expectations.

After it was all said and done with, I planned on kicking him out of my room. I’m not the type that likes to have sleepovers with hook ups. For me, it’s much easier to establish boundaries when we don’t snuggle up afterwards. My usual way of getting them to get dressed and go home is by using this wonderful line: I’ll be asleep by the time that you get home. They usually get the message, and call it a night. Unfortunately, this didn’t work out on Saturday. When I came out of the bathroom, he was already tucked in under the covers. Damn him! I sucked it up and let him sleep in the bed with me.

I woke a few times and was so delighted with myself when I turned to see his naked form sleeping next to me. Truly a beautiful site to behold. Seriously, he has a kick ass body. Kick ass. Ugh, I’m so proud of myself for getting to see it in all it’s glory. Go me!! I woke up at 6:30 with a crushing headache and my stomach churning. Went back to sleep until 7:00. I started rolling around in the bed and sighing out loud in hopes that he’d wake up and leave. It didn’t work. I got up to take a shower at 8:00 and prayed that I wouldn’t get sick while he was room. I woke his ass up around 8:15 and told him that if he wanted to sleep anymore, he’d have to go up to his room. He left. 20 minutes later, I puked. So hot. . .Thank freaking god that he wasn’t there for that. THANK GOD!!

We met up for brunch at noon with our other friends. I mentioned nothing to them, and figured he would do the same. He started asking me questions that I figured they would find suspicious: What did you do after I left? Did you go back to sleep? Guess we weren’t keeping it a secret like I thought we would. Oh well. When it was time to go, he walked me to my car, kissed me, and we said good bye.

I guarantee that I will never see him again, and if I do, there will never be any mention of Saturday night. I’m okay with that. I’m just wicked super psyched and pleased that I finally got to see him naked and it was everything that I imagined and hoped it would be.

Go me!

God Help Me

6 Jul

Tomorrow I am headed off to a wedding. That’s right, I have friends that are getting married on 7-7-07. It hadn’t occurred to me that they were tools until this morning. Oh well, at least there will be an open bar. Additionally, I will be reunited with Notebook. I’m sure I’ll end up pining away for him at some point, and he’ll ignore me completely. Somehow, he suckered me into picking him up at the airport. How did that happen??

The frightening part is the potential cocktail flu that I’ll be nursing on Sunday. These people are not your average drinkers: they are young, they can still hold it like they did in college (since they just freaking graduated). Meanwhile, yours truly has just about zero tolerance for alcohol. I’m frightened. I envision being wrapped around the toilet on Sunday morning while management is banging on my door telling me to clear out or else they’ll call Security. Please don’t let this happen to me.

What will my Michael Kors bag and my cherry red ipod think of me? I’ll disgrace my whole “family”!!