When you’re down in the bay area where else to you go for fun but Erin’s?! On up to Oakland I go…good times, good times. The night begins with a few cocktails and me giving the scoop on why I broke up with Randy…which as the story unfolds seems more and more unbelievable…insults, hidden secrets, and medication in all. I can’t even make this up, I’m not that talented of a writer!
We head off to the club where we immediately get to the bar and order…what else…more drinks. On this evening I have learned something in my “old age” of 27…that I can’t handle long island ice teas like I used to! After consuming more than I will admit to, I am feelin the boogity beat! That’s right, I was dancing my little white girl heart out! Dance, sip my drink, dance, sip my drink, dance, sip my drink, sip my drink, sip my drink, dance. This pretty much sums up the next 2 ½ hours. The highlight would be I danced with Moses…that’s right, Moses. Seriously, can’t make this up. Maybe it’s not that funny now, but to us at the club who had consumed more alcohol than should have been consumed…it was hilarious!Well finally the dancing stopped only because the lights came on and the club was closing down. It didn’t feel like I danced that long, however after awhile you tend to loose track of time. As we head home we get the bright idea to get some food. Now this is where the night takes a tragic turn. I have always sworn to the ultimate hangover cure…cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake. Seriously, this has done some good many times and ultimately made me and my friends feel like a whole new person. While my drunk ass is giving my order to Erin, I realize that food doesn’t sound so good, but who cares! So we get home and burgers are being passed and people are chowing down and I just stare at the food…either because I’m contemplating if I really want to eat it, or because I’m just not sure what I’m staring at. “Sierra, you need to eat something”, this is what I hear over and over but no matter how many times it is said, I can’t bring myself to do it. The thought of even eating one fry…well you get the idea I have figured that this cure may work for the typical small hangover, however it does not work when you have consumed enough alcohol to fill your mini bar in your living room...which I have thank you very much!
Time for bed…I think just as Erin put the blanket on the couch, my head wasn’t far behind. I wake up to the sound of breakfast being made and I smell bacon. This honestly doesn’t make me sick, but being asked 12 times if you want some eggs, bacon, and grits really makes your stomach do a gymnastics routine that you never knew it could do. Gold medal contender routine! While I understand the whole point was to tell me I needed to get food in my stomach, the sound of “do you want some scrambled eggs? How about some grits? Maybe you could just eat some greasy bacon and it will help soak up the alcohol”. Yeah, thanks Erin. J
Finally I am home where I get something in my stomach and meet my new best friend…my couch. The day is filled with the fun that is nursing a hangover where I swear I won’t drink again…or at least that much. That is until I got to work and was asked if I wanted to go out on Friday for margaritas to celebrate Cinco de Mayo…well of course! Funny how quickly my mind can be changed. So while we are going out to celebrate the Independence of Mexico, I actually think this is an attempt to get me and “hottie nurse” talking. Either way I don’t care…just bring on the Margaritas!
Side note: The Connecticut job didn’t work out. It seems they don’t have a need for an OT, which means they’ve hired someone to fill the position permanently. So either I’ll be extended here or go somewhere else…should hopefully know this week.
1 comment:
Are you sure you don't want any grits?..lol
I asked you 12 times...lol. You have to know that in my long-island iced tea mind, it only sounded like 3 times.
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