Hangover 101

Sorry it's been a few days for my last post but I've been busy basking in the glow of being 26. Which might I add has lead t more people than average telling me how old I will be in 4 years... yes 30. Its almost to the point where every person I speak with is quick to point that out, which is odd because no one points out at 16 you are 4 years from 20, or that at 7 you are 4 years from 11. Yes I am aware of such, but thats a whole Olympics away from now so lets just relax, Michael Phelps isn't about to hit the pool again and I'm not about to turn 30...not just yet. With that being said lets get down to some work occupying bloggage.

Okay so bloggage is a stupid word now that I read it again.

This weekend I went out with some friends, and The Lady mind you. I caught up with an old buddy from college who I haven't seen since so needless to say we did what all guys older than 22 would do... drink heavy and tell stories of our historic pasts. I suppose now is a good time to lace this story with a dose of foreshadowing: I have never had a hang over cue dramatic music. No, never. For those that know me, I can drink, not like a horse, cause well, I use cups and napkins, horses just use lips and look stupid. But if a horse did use a cup or a napkin, then I suppose I would drink like said horse, but for all intents and purposes, I can handle my booze (no I didn't say I have never gotten sick off drinking, just never a hang over). 

Anyway, we leave bar number one, where it should be noted that The Lady casually accused me of not listening to her tell me something cause I was "too busy gawking" too which I SWIFTLY replied "what at some pot bellied ho's?!?!?!". Needless to say, I don't think I have ever used that phrase in my life but the fact that I said it so quickly and alarmingly is still funny to me as I type, and she let me off the hook. Mostly because I wasn't gawking, duh. Fellas, feel free to use that one if you like, but you've got to be sure there are a decent amount of pot bellage in the area. Damn, I thought I could sell the bellage after that bloggage attempt went over so poorly, 0 for 2 on witty -age endings. Oh wellage.

Bar one, done, and heading to bar two, I'll keep it short in saying this is how it went. We got there, we drank, we laughed my friends sweated like hogs, I laughed, we drank. Then I woke up.

Apparently however between that last period after we drank and then I woke up this happened. I threw up out of my buddies still moving car while driving through D.C I undressed myself rather wildly and incoherently in my living room, got sick some more, walked into a wall, stabbed a bellhop (not really). And woke up with with the most intense pain in my skull known to man. Goodness gracious, my friends even used to hate hard for me never having a hang over. I'll even be honest to point out The Lady has admitted to being happy to watch me in pain that day as she giggled "finally finally finally" to herself, imagine Rumplestiltskin doing his dance in the woods, and thats how she looked in excitement as I was doubled over in pain. (she did also nurture me while I took some Ibuprofen, gave me water while I got sick again the next day, provide me with a pillow, rub my back, get me food, and let me be a complete nothing for the day) So I assume the dance and giggling can be somewhat forgiven :) and yes she is right next to me reading as I type oh I love you so much babe so so much.

Needless to say when I finally woke up from my second or third coma all I could think to myself was "damnit, this is what it means to be 4 years from 30".