my body is rejecting my body

I spent the better part of this past weekend drinking. SPOILER ALERT: this is pretty much every weekend. But, this one was special even more disastrous than usual.

My Friday and Saturday nights out are usually a fierce sprint through dinner to drinks to more drinks to some horrific after party to brunch. And by 'brunch,' I mean Whataburger or Taco Bell at all hours of the night.

True Story: my two crazier friends on multiple occasions have spent at least if not more than $20 at Taco Bell at one time... for just the two of them.

Anyway, for the 2nd year in a row, my friends and I pub crawled through Uptown's douchiest bars. Luckily we came prepared so we would fit in with our fellow day drinkers:

This sign was actually  found and/or stolen in a drunken stupor
by one of my friends during LAST year's crawl!

VERY long story short, we started at 2:00 PM Saturday afternoon and somehow managed to marathon drink, dance, and party until 7:00 AM Sunday morning. I'm not a math genius and can't remember the time zones properly, but that is a hell of a long time.

Needless to say, my body was pretty much rejecting my body when I woke up at 2:00 PM later that day. The situation, like my hair, breath, and BO, was a disaster. I watched three episodes of Desperate Housewives and finally peeled myself off the couch, showered, and mustered enough energy to go to the grocery store.

I tried to make a list of what I thought would be appropriate food so I would be prepared to face the public. I can usually Supermarket Sweep my way through my local grocery with ease. Seriously, I should be on that show. Is that show still even on? If it is cancelled, it looks like the terrorists did win after all...

Anyway, even with my list I was a zombie with no brains to eat stumbling from aisle to aisle scaring my fellow shoppers with my bag eyes and misshapen hook hand. Every single item on my list was questioned and debated.

John, do you really need apples? 

Are you sure you want chicken for dinner? 

Who doesn't love Rolos? Do I? I don't know!

What is happening to me!?!?!

A trip that should have taken no longer than 15 minutes was stretched and screwed (emphasis on the screwed) into a 45 minute ordeal. I then went home and tried to cook. That actually worked out VERY well. Nothing makes me feel better or comforts me more than cooking. It almost made up for the grocery store ordeal.

Then I tried to get ready for bed...

My body was all like: 'why do you hate me so much?' And I was like, 'Shut up, body! Check out these memories!'

Complete stranger AKA my new role model.

things I've learned recently *cough* phoning it in today

I'm not the only person who thinks there is or should be an East Virginia. That's right, I may lack the geographical knowledge to know there aren't two Idahos, but my principles tell me (and at least one other person) that if there is a WEST Virginia, there should be an East Virginia. 

This isn't news to anyone who follows this regularly. Yes, I am bad at geography, but in my defense most of the states I missed don't really matter and I was under a time-constraint when I did this.

People you once thought were perfectly nice, albeit a bit on the low-key (AKA borderline boring) are actually just their own brand of absolutely bat s**t crazy. Profanity necessary and absolutely accurate.

I destroy all of my friends' facebook News Feeds. Absolutely no regrets.

In response to a post that generate 27 comments, 9 mine, most in
response to me, and almost none in response to the original post.

I develop interest in (and sometimes intense middle school crushes on) people solely because they pay little to no attention to me. Therefore, winning them over is a challenge, and they are clearly worth my time. The people who ignore me are people I need to know! (This rarely never ends well).

A person you once thought was attractive in his own little way loses all appeal when you see them making out with anything and everything that has eyes. Seriously, I think I saw this mess making out with a potato at some point during a four day vacation. Equally serious, I'm 99% sure he now tests positive for parvo.

On weeknights I stay home in attempts to get a full nights sleep, I end up staying up even later dawdling around my house than if I had just gone out and grabbed a drink (or five) with my friends.

Picture care of Hyperbole And A Half. Yeah, I'm didn't even
draw my own pictures for this post. Totally phoning it in.

The more people habitually reinforce an idea on facebook, the less likely I think it is actually genuine. For instance, if you are at the gym as much as you are 'checked in,' shouldn't you have beefy Disney Prince arms instead of that muffin top? I mean, the only idea I'm promoting on facebook is myself, and I'm borderline certain I'm not imaginary.

Sometimes my luck/karma is so bad, I’m confident in my past life, I was either Hitler’s public speaking teacher or all those people who voted for Taylor Hicks watch American Idol.

Finally, when you have been drinking all day on the beach and find yourself dancing on speaker box at 12 AM and a tranny covered in glitter who looks like she (he?) just lost a Ke$ha impersonator contest comes up to you out of nowhere to ask you where you got your drugs, you need to take a look at your f***ing life. (PS - I was NOT on drugs).

This has NOTHING to do with this post, other than the fact that I
have learned these will NEVER stop making me almost pee my pants.

i blame lack of alcohol

Today has been a weird day.

I blame lack of alcohol consumption. For the first time since my liver or I can remember, I did not go out this past Saturday night. I mean, I drank by a pool and found my new calling in life (XBOX Kinect Dance Central), but I was showered, flossed, and away in dreamland with Michael Fassbender before 1 AM. 

TJ and I dance battling... Clearly, I won.

For future reference, this is me dancing and/or having it all.

Anyway, I think my low key evening was awesome on one level, yet completely destroyed me on a whole other more accurate level.

Sunday was productive... ish. I was in and out of the gym before noon, and this is where any semblance of productivity ends.

Now, I can usually blame Sabbath sloth on a hangover or exhaustion, but this day was nothing for the sake of nothing. You see when you are under the weather because you've told yourself 'what's one more Jello shot?' the next day, you are completely justified in telling yourself, 'do nothing.' 

Believe me, I always tell myself, I couldn't even possibly go get milk, because no one in the general public deserves to see me throw up in the middle of the dairy section, grab a 1/2 gallon of rocky road, and run away like a bow-legged mongoloid. 

For once in my life, I actually felt guilty for being so useless. I didn't make it to the grocery nor did I do a bit of laundry or any of the other things grown up people are meant to do during the last moments of their weekend.

The last moments of my weekend were spent watching Rory Gilmore hijack a yacht and drop out of Yale. 

Flash forward to this morning and my iPod (while on shuffle) decided to play one of my favorite Christmas carols of ever on my drive to work. I have since been listening to the 300+ Christmas songs on my iPod. 

It's June... in Texas, y'all.

UPDATED: up, up and away

Every time I step foot into an airport, I am exposed of every cross section of our society. The ugly, the beautiful, the rich, the poor.  It's like the small world ride at Disney World, but I'm listening to the Annie Soundtrack instead of that repetitive, almost cult-like chant, and there are machines that show complete strangers your taint!

I could have drawn myself in a plane, but Paula Deen riding a
flying cat with sunglasses is so much better on so many levels.

Anyway, the ONLY thing I like about flying, is people watching.

You see men and women in uniform and feel all Hallmark commercial inside (not that lame Kay Jewelers video chat commercial. Barf!), then immediately jealous that you can't go into the USO and are stuck to eat at a Chili's Too next to a family of five whose carry-on luggage is Hefty Bags full of half empty hotel shampoos.

Then you look to your right and you see a girl who is trying so hard it hurts. She is in full hair and make-up and wearing a sweat suit that says "Angel" or "Bad Girl" across her ass.  You then mini-throw up the even more over-priced Starbucks you were enjoying.

Across the terminal, you see a single parent traveling with two small children that resemble Brides of Chucky and immediately pray that if they are on your flight that it gets hijacked shortly after take off. Seriously, if I can't use my iPod while we are taking off or landing, then I politely ask you to turn off your BABY!

And then you always see that person who looks absolutely nut balls crazy homeless. This person has a visible odor and although he/she paid for airfare with begger money and $2.50 Handy-J's, is somehow in the Platinum boarding group ahead of you.

Finally, you see me. I'm rolling around a hard-shell suitcase and practically have my ear phones glued into my head (even when traveling with friends) so I probably look like the most Asian tourist of ever. Did I mention I am most likely taking pictures too? 

Yeah... Deal: sealed!

What onlookers don't realize is, I have a can of salt and vinegar Pringles in my carry-on and my custom made travel playlist has both 'Maybe' from the Annie Soundtrack as well as "Ghetto Superstar" feat. Ole Dirty Bastard. 

So. Yeah, I'm pretting effing legit.

Yeah, this was a pretty pointless post, but I'm writing this on my BlackBerry mid flight because my best friend is having travel difficulties and I'm stuck to a woman is actively dying. It's either this or try to burrow through the window or find the nearest emergency slide to get away from the stench. 

PS - I'm fairly certain her sun-damaged neck skin was her carry-on.

UPDATE: My friend read my this post and the only thing he got from it (as he should) was how awesome Paula Deen Riding Things is. So, he did this and I love him for it.

I'm vacationing drunk in Mexico, y'all!