If This Sticker Could Talk, I Would Say “Shut Your Filthy Mouth”

Soooooooo . . . I found this sticker in my purse the other day and it wasn’t a crisp new sticker waiting to be pealed and stuck on the wall of Wahoos. Noooooo, this sticker was already separated from it’s waxy paper origin. It’s stick was gone. This flaccid sticker had a story and it involved me. It stared at me condescendingly with it’s secret for a few moments and then as if my deceased grandfather smacked me on the head and said “tonta,” (Spanish for dummy) it hit me.

I slapped myself on the forehead and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment trying to blink that memory away. That never works. I really did not want to remember why I had this sticker and what happened briefly after I attained it, but it was too late.

Ugh.

Are you sure you want to read on?

. . . Am I sure that I want to tell you?

Sigh.

One day some guy was taking a leak in the bathroom at Crosby and for one reason or another had a “One World” sticker and decided to stick it on the handicap bar in the bathroom. There that sticker would reside for the rest of it’s existence (or so it thought) to witness the drunken antics of male customers taking a leak. Poor sticker. Occasionally, silly drunken girls would get tired of waiting for the women’s restroom to be available and sneak into the men’s restroom. Last Friday night, one really drunk girl couldn’t wait behind the two girls in line ahead of her and snuck into the vacant Men’s room. A red, yellow and green sticker caught her eye while she was in there and she had to have it so she carefully pulled the sticker away from the only home it ever knew and put it in her purse. Little did she know as she finished her business that there was an approaching restroom goer who perceived the men’s restroom to be vacant. Of course whether or not a person thinks a restroom is vacant shouldn’t matter as long as the bathroom door is locked, but don’t tell Drunky who’s too busy peeling disgusting stickers off of metal bars to remember SHE DIDN’T LOCK THE DOOR!

It happened in slow motion. I heard the door knob being jiggled and then I looked up to see the door starting to open. I didn’t scream “SOMEONE’S IN HERE” as I should have (to be fair I don’t think he would have heard me anyway because of the loud music). Instead I threw up my hand in protest and hid my face with my hair until the shocked expressions and laughter ceased at the sound of the closing door. This is what happens when you think you can drink like one of the boys (or a Segura). You get really drunk and your reaction time slows down as you piss your common sense and dignity away.

I was supposed to see a movie with Tiff and Viola, but I was running late and decided just to hang out with the boys at their place since we were going to meet up with them anyway and Brandon was going to show me some WordPress tips. When I got there they were working at their computers (they work from home) drinking Jack and Coke and I felt I needed to catch up. I had a lot of fun hanging out with them, but I failed to understand the difference between drinking with boys and drinking like the boys. Had I not had that third Jack and Coke, I might not have been as belligerently drunk as I was. But I did. And I was. From the moment my lips touched the glass of that third Jack and Coke my indecent exposure became inevitable. That was the moment I officially crossed the line and became that girl. When we arrived at Crosby, I announced my drunkness to everyone I said hi to. “I’m really, really drunk,” I told them and they would just smile at me like, I can tell.

The terrible nauseating hangover and the thirty minutes spent at the grocery store the next morning trying to find my hangover essentials (Perrier, Gatorade, Advil, Saltine crackers and Ramen) would follow. It really made me wish they had a hangover section that would include soups, crackers, re-hydrating and carbonated drinks and pain medicine– Oh AND magazines and maybe even movies??!

I hate drinking like that. I hate being hung over, but I LOVE recuperating. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to my afternoon of recuperating that would include sleeping, waking up, having some soup, reading about Ellen and Portia’s wedding in People Magazine, sleeping some more, watching a few episodes of The Office, sleeping some more etc… I recuperated well until the next morning and it. was. glorious.

Now that I feel like an alcoholic sloth creature, I think it’s time to end this blog.

Would anyone care to share their hangover essentials and rituals?