Tuesday, June 21, 2011

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.

5 comments:

SLynnRo said...

I'm Jeremy's friend, Stara, also known as just about the only girl to make it to the entire pub crawl. I might have creepily read your archives and love you now.

John said...

HA! Thanks so much! It was great meeting you. I hope your post-pub crawl recovery was less painful than mine.

Brandy Rose said...

Lesson number 1: never plan ANYTHING for the next day other than a large breakfast with lots of grease at a sit down restaurant.

This was learned after years of practice.

John said...

Brandy - my friend and I were having a discussion about hangover food that made me want to die. She claims the best hangover food is Chicken flavored Ramen noodles on a plate served with two runny fried eggs on top. I almost barfed at the thought. But she swears by it.

I prefer pizza, pizza rolls, and possibly just the pepperonis off of a pizza.

Anna said...

Participated in my first pub crawl a couple months ago, and my body took days to forgive me. But, it was fucking awesome, and I can't wait to crawl around again next year- only, maybe with a little more preparation.