Right now, I can't remember last night.
I'm at the point where your head throbs, and you want desperately to sleep, but you can't let yourself become unconcious again. That's what you spent last night doing.
Brie has my photographic documentation. I called her half an hour ago, worried. "Can you bring my digital camera home please?"
So far, all I remember is:
Getting in a cab with Brian, who was dressed as an asparagus. (Which, as you can guess, was the highlight of my night. It was a brilliant costume.)
Fast forward to the end of the night, when the party was still in full-swing but Brie insisted I take my heels off to walk down the stairs, where she fetched me a cab, and I went home.
So what happened in between?
I have skin missing from my ankles and bruises forming.
I seriously need Brie to come home with my camera so I can fill in the blank spots.
Any time I wake up in that kind of condition, the lyrics from an old Jimmy Buffet song haunt me for the rest of the day:ReplyDelete
"My head hurts!
My feet stink!
And I don't love Jesus!
It's that kind of mornin'
Really was that kind of night
Tryin' to tell myself
that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by Thursday
I'll be roarin' Friday night!"
Hope you feel better! The best hangover cure really is an ice cold watery beer or two!