Sometimes there are days when I just want to stay in bed.
You know those days. You open your eyes and look at the ceiling and think, "Oh, fuck this. Today already sucks." You don't know how you know it, but there's some little voice inside you whispering, "Stay in bed. Don't get up yet."
In my case, the little voice whispering is usually Lizzie, who always implores I not get out of bed so she can climb all over me like I'm a bouncy house. That's cute for about five minutes, then she'll stomp on my throat or jump on my right hip (you know, the "bad one"), and I'm like, "THAT'S IT! I'm getting up!!" and so starts our first Mommy-Daughter fight.
Today, the little voice whispering inside me not to get up was the subconscious part of my brain I call Amy2001, who liked to drink way too much and dance way too much and party way too much and wore really small shirts and had zero responsibilities and slept until noon on the weekends.
(Sometimes I miss Amy2001. *sigh!*)
Well, last night, Amy2001 insisted that Bacardi Silver and Country Time Pink Lemonade would make a completely kick-ass cocktail. So I made two of those in a pint glass, doubling the shots of Bacardi because I couldn't taste it over the super-sweetness of the pink lemonade. Amy2001 shrieked gleefully, jumped on the stage at the Bamboo, and shimmied her 24 year old ass off as I drank them down. Man, talk about rum o'clock.
That witch. I could totally kick her ass over the hangover I had this morning.
The day got a little better when I realized I had justenough coffee to flood my system with enough caffeine to drown my hangover. The day got a little worse when I realized I had no more creamer left and had to use 2-day expired milk.
And all this before 9.30am. Oh, my Christ on a cracker.
Aside from a speed metal concert, where's the worst place to go with a hangover? Yeah, that's right: the grocery store on a Saturday morning. By the frozen food section, I was taking deep cleansing breaths and shooting Jack Nicholson ala "The Shining" glares at people who looked at me wrong. Erick and Lizzie, blissfully dancing from one aisle to another, hardly noticed I was having a massive hangover-induced meltdown while Amy2001 screamed "Will you shut off that goddamn Muzak?!" and pulled the blankets over her head.
Oh, I should have rebelled and stayed in bed.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Amy2001 just showed up in our favourite boob shirt and that Bacardi Silver is looking awfully lonely in the freezer.
