praying to the porcelain gods

actually, it was more like praying to the sidewalk gods, and the front seat of MH's car gods, and the bucket by the couch gods. because in the numerous times i puked this weekend, not once did i actually make it to a toilet.

i crashed a wedding this weekend, but i'm the one who crashed. HARD.

i didn't intend for the night to go as it did, but who really does. in my defense, i didn't even have all that much to drink. it must have been something about the alignment of the planets or maybe something that i ate. but saturday night sucked so hard it wasn't even funny.

unless you were my brother, or his friends. or MH. or any lucky guest in the lobby of the hotel who got to witness my shenanigans. i was tackling people. putting cigarettes in people's mouths. and apparently, doing some very unladylike dancing. sweet jesus. thank god my mother wasn't there.

i remember having a good time, and then i remember not. i vaguely remember getting into MH's car, but i don't remember puking on his shirt. or his car. i don't know how i got on the couch. or where my shoes or purse were. i woke up at around 4 am with a pounding headache and the desire to puke even more. at around 5 am, my mom woke me up to get me ready for work. yes kids, i had to go to work.

she made me a bagel and i somehow managed to put on my uniform and stand up.

the next 7 hours were the worst of my life. i had to go to work because a new girl was starting and i couldn't leave her to run the restaurant by herself. plus everyone at work knew i was at the wedding and i couldn't call out sick on account of being hungover. even if i couldn't stand up. so yeah, it pretty much sucked hard. i could not escape the nauseau, whether i was sitting, standing, laying down. the lowest of the low was when i finally puked yet again about an hour before the end of my shift.

finally, finally, finally i made it home, and on the couch with a huge plate of watermelon, gatorade and some crackers. i took some tylenol and took a nap. and finally, finally, finally felt like half a normal person. i remember at some point during my convalesence thinking, "i'm a freaking marathon runner in training and THIS is what i'm doing to my body?!? shit!"

i was tempted to take a picture of myself to remind me of the bad things alcohol can do to my body. but to be honest, i don't really know what happened. i really honestly only had 3 glasses of wine. there must have been some other odd factor to have caused such wretching of my insides. either way, it sucked hard. and even today, 2 days later, i still don't feel 100%. my throat still burns like hell. i don't know how bulimics do it. but i will say this: shit like this doesn't happen when i drink beer.