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trinityvixenTo inaugurate my new journal, I bring you: MY HANG-OVER WOES!
Gah, I hate this. This is like the being drunk minus the inflated sense of self-esteem. This is only my second hang-over, and it's laughable that it happened after a Friday night when I quit drinking well before MIDNIGHT. Seriously. I know all this drinking Down Under is going to give me the tolerance of the Gods--not like that really bald, fat, drunken god, but like the other ones who're always knocking back Ambrosia like it's going out of style. But maaaaan, I do NOT YET have the tolerance to drink three pints (IT COMES IN PINTS!), a jack and coke (minus the bottle of Dom, thank goodness), a Bacardi Breezer (an *excellent* drink on its own), and a kahlua and milk. That's like 9 drinks, and Jack is more like two on its very own, so gaaah.
Yeah, think I scared my roomie, too. Alicyn's a really nice person. I know I vaunched in the toilet and she got me some water. I have vague recollection of this, made stronger by seeing the glass still on the bathroom sink this morning. What worries me is that I have, to borrow the phrase, lost mittens of time. I remember leaving the bar after watching my Footy team get SLAUGHTERED by fucking West Coast (bite me, Eagles) and I think I remember waiting for a tram back to the city. I can't remember if Amy came on it with me, I think I talked her into it because at that hour, chances were good inspectors were done for the day. After she left, I assume I got off somewhere near La Trobe, which crosses to Swanston and my building, but I'll be damned if I remember getting in. I have a flash of me faltering slightly with my key card and some Asian girl waiting for me to open the door, but I don't remember passing security, I don't remember anything except successfully getting on the elevator and I remember not having too much trouble unlocking the door.
Things I apparently did last night are evidenced only by things I found this morning. I managed to *read* something--fanfics, but I read something because windows were open when I brought Buggy Bug (my beloved computer) out of standby. Also, I managed to *write* something, as both WordPerfect was open and my Xanga journal had a short blurb about me being horribly drunk and upset with the Hawks. I sort of remember writing the last bit of it, about R.I.P. Hawthorne, though the memory seems older than just from last night, though it couldn't have been as I've seen exactly one loss by my team, and that was it. Clothes on the floor, so I undressed, I just hope I didn't do it right the hell in front of my roommate as I hadn't the clarity to close the blinds to my room. Poor Alicyn. She gets to find me vomiting (which, I seem to think I did standing up, so I feel less pathetic, but I'm all like "I was standing?" whenever I think about it), gets me water, then I know I was trying to brush off how drunk I was, and have severe dread that included proving I was going to bed by just out and out stripping. I woke up in underwear and bra, so wasn't naked, which she is not totally cool with (I haven't asked, but she always turned away when she dressed at camp from people, so I've been good and not aggravated).
The last time I lost mittens of time, Carrie dubbed me the Concubine Emeritus of Prussia, which was undeserved no matter what she says. I guess the worst that happens here is I get a new nickname. People in the program I'm in all end up with nicknames from Riley. Alicyn's is Spurrs 'cause she does Equestrian events, fence jumping. Brian, next door, is Ted, as in "Theodore Logan," because, yeah, he does the kinda clueless nod thing. I'm "Flint." I may have explained this before, but I wanted to make sure it was well known. I'm answering to it now, so yeah.
Ah, update from Alicyn: she found me asleep at my computer, and then helped my in the bathroom when I was struggling to untie my shoes, held my hair back for me while I puked (I vaguely recall her hand on my head at the end of it, so that might have been when I stood), and yeah, I was shitfaced. I also tried to tell her to go to bed, held a conversation with her (which I reheld just now). I don't remember the shoe thing or most of the vomiting, but talking with her wakes this deja-vu feeling, so I know I did ask her the same questions as last night. It also explains how I go from a vague awareness that I was working on my computer to next remembering being in the bathroom without realizing how. I knew I had to have fallen asleep before puking, just needed the gaps filled in. I'll have to ask Amy how I managed to get home on the Tram, but I suspect she doesn't know all.
Whee. Am less hung-over over the course of writing, doing laundry, commiserating with Alicyn (I'm horribly embarrassed but she's good natured about it and promises to wake me if she ever comes back and starts doing anything funny).
More on this front later, it's time for a shower while things are in the dryer.
Gah, I hate this. This is like the being drunk minus the inflated sense of self-esteem. This is only my second hang-over, and it's laughable that it happened after a Friday night when I quit drinking well before MIDNIGHT. Seriously. I know all this drinking Down Under is going to give me the tolerance of the Gods--not like that really bald, fat, drunken god, but like the other ones who're always knocking back Ambrosia like it's going out of style. But maaaaan, I do NOT YET have the tolerance to drink three pints (IT COMES IN PINTS!), a jack and coke (minus the bottle of Dom, thank goodness), a Bacardi Breezer (an *excellent* drink on its own), and a kahlua and milk. That's like 9 drinks, and Jack is more like two on its very own, so gaaah.
Yeah, think I scared my roomie, too. Alicyn's a really nice person. I know I vaunched in the toilet and she got me some water. I have vague recollection of this, made stronger by seeing the glass still on the bathroom sink this morning. What worries me is that I have, to borrow the phrase, lost mittens of time. I remember leaving the bar after watching my Footy team get SLAUGHTERED by fucking West Coast (bite me, Eagles) and I think I remember waiting for a tram back to the city. I can't remember if Amy came on it with me, I think I talked her into it because at that hour, chances were good inspectors were done for the day. After she left, I assume I got off somewhere near La Trobe, which crosses to Swanston and my building, but I'll be damned if I remember getting in. I have a flash of me faltering slightly with my key card and some Asian girl waiting for me to open the door, but I don't remember passing security, I don't remember anything except successfully getting on the elevator and I remember not having too much trouble unlocking the door.
Things I apparently did last night are evidenced only by things I found this morning. I managed to *read* something--fanfics, but I read something because windows were open when I brought Buggy Bug (my beloved computer) out of standby. Also, I managed to *write* something, as both WordPerfect was open and my Xanga journal had a short blurb about me being horribly drunk and upset with the Hawks. I sort of remember writing the last bit of it, about R.I.P. Hawthorne, though the memory seems older than just from last night, though it couldn't have been as I've seen exactly one loss by my team, and that was it. Clothes on the floor, so I undressed, I just hope I didn't do it right the hell in front of my roommate as I hadn't the clarity to close the blinds to my room. Poor Alicyn. She gets to find me vomiting (which, I seem to think I did standing up, so I feel less pathetic, but I'm all like "I was standing?" whenever I think about it), gets me water, then I know I was trying to brush off how drunk I was, and have severe dread that included proving I was going to bed by just out and out stripping. I woke up in underwear and bra, so wasn't naked, which she is not totally cool with (I haven't asked, but she always turned away when she dressed at camp from people, so I've been good and not aggravated).
The last time I lost mittens of time, Carrie dubbed me the Concubine Emeritus of Prussia, which was undeserved no matter what she says. I guess the worst that happens here is I get a new nickname. People in the program I'm in all end up with nicknames from Riley. Alicyn's is Spurrs 'cause she does Equestrian events, fence jumping. Brian, next door, is Ted, as in "Theodore Logan," because, yeah, he does the kinda clueless nod thing. I'm "Flint." I may have explained this before, but I wanted to make sure it was well known. I'm answering to it now, so yeah.
Ah, update from Alicyn: she found me asleep at my computer, and then helped my in the bathroom when I was struggling to untie my shoes, held my hair back for me while I puked (I vaguely recall her hand on my head at the end of it, so that might have been when I stood), and yeah, I was shitfaced. I also tried to tell her to go to bed, held a conversation with her (which I reheld just now). I don't remember the shoe thing or most of the vomiting, but talking with her wakes this deja-vu feeling, so I know I did ask her the same questions as last night. It also explains how I go from a vague awareness that I was working on my computer to next remembering being in the bathroom without realizing how. I knew I had to have fallen asleep before puking, just needed the gaps filled in. I'll have to ask Amy how I managed to get home on the Tram, but I suspect she doesn't know all.
Whee. Am less hung-over over the course of writing, doing laundry, commiserating with Alicyn (I'm horribly embarrassed but she's good natured about it and promises to wake me if she ever comes back and starts doing anything funny).
More on this front later, it's time for a shower while things are in the dryer.
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Date: 2003-07-26 02:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-26 06:39 am (UTC)