It's 8am and I am awake....and writing
2008-10-17 ~ 8:25 a.m.
Mornings and I are not friendly. Not at all. Matter of fact, just a few weeks ago I sent my boss into a little bit of a tizzy with an email I sent. It was a Saturday and I was supposed to work 9am-noon that day but I overslept until 11:30. This is not the first time I've overslept and been late and this is why my boss is wonderful because as long as we work 40 hours, hit our numbers and keep him informed, he's fairly cool with a few schedule irregularities.
That being said, I'm sure he was a bit surprised the day I overslept until 2pm. Oh well.
Anyway, back to that Saturday. I slept until 11:30 and when I woke up I sent him an email that said, "Mornings are I are obviously not compatable. Irreconcilable differences. Divorce papers will be filed Monday morning".
Then I went to Towson to see my daughter in the Parade of Gold (with Michael Phelps!) and while in Towson I visited with Ann and told her of this email. I thought it was quite witty actually.
Until Monday when my boss emailed Ann (well known to be one of my best friends, both in and out of the office) to make sure I was okay. Before he even told her why he was asking, she knew.
He had totally misunderstood my email and thought Jack and I were....well, you know.
Hee.
So yeah. Mornings and I? Bad.
But this morning, I feel surprisingly well considering five hours ago I was passed out cold on the bathroom floor.
What? Don't look at me like that. It's was all Halena's fault...no wait, it was Jack's fault....ah shit, I guess it was all my fault. I guess if I want to be a big girl and turn 40 I should take ownership of my mistakes.
But see, it went like this. Jack and I have been going to the gym every night after he gets off work. And he works at one of the best beer bars in Baltimore. And I love a good craft beer. But I also know better than to drink before working out.
Or at least not to drink heavily. I usually let myself have one beer while I'm waiting for Jack to finish up.
So Wednesday night I went in and I had my heart set on trying the Palo Santo Marron from Dogfish Head. Until I saw the ABV of 13% on the beer list and decided to go with.....something else, I can't even remember what now...but it was good.
But I expressed my dismay to Stacey the bartender and she said, "Oh you should definitely try it, it's good".
So tonight when I went in I said the hell with it and told Stacey to hook it up. And it WAS good. So good that I decided to try the other beer on the menu that had caught my eye, Smuttynose Wheat Wine (11% ABV) which was also quite good.
While consuming my second beer in the kitchen with Jack he said to me, "Janky [we call each other Janky], I really don't feel like going to the gym tonight". He'd had a rough night with a private party upstairs and was exhausted. Given that it was after midnight already and he still had almost an hour's worth of work still, I can't say I blame him.
So I happily agreed because I never WANT to go to the gym and went to sit at the bar and drink my beer.
Well when Jack was done he came and sat with me and I was feeling uncharacteristically generous and loving and said, "Stacey, Jack needs a shot."
So she set up three little shot cups and poured two of them and gave them to us and I assumed the third was for her because Stacey does shots all night long but then...well, things got a little cloudy, I guess I forgot about the third shot.
So Jack raises his cup to mine and we tap the bar and down our shots and all is well.
Until Halena (who is the upstairs bartender and usually off on Thursdays but had come in to work the private party that curbstomped Jack all night and I love Halena she is my favorite of all the bartenders, followed closely by Stacey which is probably why I was in such good spirits last night....but I digress.....)
So then Halena raises HER shot glass and looks at us expectantly and Jack and I look at each other and Jack says, "Oh, sorry, Homey [he calls everyone Homey, including my children and even me], they're gone" and her face falls and since I am feeling so loving and generous to the world I say, "Pour me another Halena, I'll do it with you."
Yeah. THAT was a bad idea.
I seem to recall asking Stacey if Jack and I could go upstairs and "do it" (Yes, I actually said "do it") in the upstairs bathroom and Stacey said go for it, but Jack in all his wisdom demurred.
We finally stagger out of there and thank goodness the bar is within walking distance of our apartment. We get home and I decide the best idea in the world would be to lie down in the parking lot for a while and take deep gulps of air. That didn't work so we went upstairs and I stuck my head under the sink and drank as much water as I could. That didn't work so I went into the bathroom and laid down in the tub and....hmmm....not sure exactly, I don't actually REMEMBER getting undressed but I know I did because when I got out of the tub (which I never actually filled with water) and went out into the living room I just had a towel on and I distinctly remember at some point puting on my pajamas and also running my head under the water in the tub to soak it but the sequence of events is all murky.
Anyway, I finally decided the best course of action would be to puke my guts out and then pass out on the floor, which is exactly what I did, until Jack came to get me and walked me, stumbling, staggering, bumping into walls, back to bed, where I insisted that he bring me "water, Tylenol...and CAT" but then I remembered as he was procuring the demanded items and said, "NO TYLENOL! NEVER TAKE TYLENOL WHEN YOU'VE BEEN DRINKING!!!"
So at least I wasn't THAT far gone.
And that is the end of my story, a story that belongs more appropriately to a college girl.
Now I'm going to try to go back to sleep. I have had soda, I have had a peanut butter and jelly sammich, I am weary.
