It’s been a long five days of sickness, internet. I have, however, made steps in the direction of the real world and even managed, for the first time in almost a week, to get out of bed and stay out. And then stay out entirely too late. See? Things are getting right back to normal.
With Aly coming in on Friday, I decided that I would stay up and drink beer and eat pizza with the rest of the guys (Jennagiraffe, Aly, and Spliff…) so as not to tarnish my reputation. You know, the one where I am raging alcoholic and have to stay up all night drinking beer and playing cards. Mission accomplished, I made it until about 1:30 and then the throbbing in my head took hold and sent me straight to bed. Bed. Where I stayed for the entirety of Saturday. And by “entirety” I mean that I woke up, ate one slice of cold pizza, made coffee, took a muscle relaxer, and crawled back into bed. I watched movies on cable all day and read “Middlesex” during the commercials. Ernge and I were taking yet another sick day and we didn’t want to see a soul. Lucky for us, it wasn’t hard not to see anyone. Spliff and Aly were out riding bikes and frolicking in the sun while I was dopey and mute and bundled in cloudlike down.
But yesterday, since I’d promised (but still didn’t want to be seen by the eyes of the public…or…anyone really), I accompanied Spliff and Aly to “brunch”. We end up at the same place every Sunday afternoon, but our brains somehow either don’t show up or they just know that they aren’t going to be used, so they go fishing. Yesterday wasn’t so bad, because we (I can really only speak for me) didn’t wake up already drunk and/or hungover. This was a nice change. I was able to fully appreciate the content of alcohol in my $6 bottomless mi-mo-mi-mosas. At the same time though, the conversations were…well…eerily normal. It was like…being sober…at brunch…This is a concept I will never completely understand.
After drowning ourselves in champagney goodness, we decided to hit up the liquor store…for…supplies. Naturally, three girls needed a massive bottle of vodka, bloody mary mix, orange juice and a 12 pack of beer. Yes. I know, it hardly sounds like enough for a Sunday evening. But we made it work. And after we’d had our fill of board games and cards and were growing weary of the cheesy music on the cable stations, Aly and Spliff (because they are off today) convinced me that it would be a good idea to go and listen to Jerms and his band play at the Home of the Psycho Rasta. Because this is always a good idea at 11pm on a Sunday night. When I’m sick. And have to work in 9 hours. And have been drinking since I woke up. Yep. Faaaaantastic.
So, of course, I went anyway. Because I am stupid and clearly, I have no willpower. It’s cool. I’m okay with it. Jerms and his band are really good so it was worth getting out of the house to see them play. However, on the cab ride back home, Spliff decided that I should call our friends from Texas. You know, the Shrimp Stallion and the Lobster Lion guys (I will call them, Thing One and Thing Two for lack of any other way to describe them at the moment) Wen she handed me the already ringing phone (but failed to tell me who in the name of Cheesus I was supposed to be calling) and gave me direct orders to make Thing Two come over. When that didn’t work, and I had been on the phone with Thing One for 45 minutes, Spliff decided that she was going to sleep diagonally across MY bed. I didn’t much like the idea but my attempts at getting her to move or leave were getting me nowhere. A drunken Spliffany is a force to be reckoned with. This is no joke. She wants to sleep where she wants to sleep and she doesn’t want you to sleep unless she wants to sleep (and even then, if she knows that you want to sleep, she will pretend to stay awake just to spite you). So when she wants to be cuddled and refuses to get out of your bed, you either physically remove her…or you lure her into her own room by way of trickery. Some examples are:
Example One: “Spliff, LOOK! It’s Taye Diggs!”
This works well, especially if there is a TV on in a different room. That way, you point, she runs, and then while she is distracted and wondering where he went, you close the door, turn of the light and pretend that you have been sleeping for hours.
Example Two: Dial a phone number and hand her a phone. “Hey, Spliff! It’s Thing Two!” Usually, she will turn around and leave, but sometimes you will be forced to use the same technique as used in example one.
I used Example Two at about 2am when I couldn’t take any more of this “being awake” thing that people speak so highly of. The lovely part about it is that, because I slept for about 4 days straight, I don’t feel insanely tired or drugged up today. But I do think that the next time Spliff and Aly (OR insert any friend here) try to convince me that Debauchery Day should take place OUTSIDE of the home, I should stand my ground. Or I should hide under the bed until they go away.