Lessons Learned (or not...)

Well, internet, I have managed this week to avoid sleeping almost completely.  I can't remember the last time I fell asleep before midnight. I think it was sometime in the mid-nineties. At least, that is what it feels like.

 

Between JGJ's visit, being abducted by Mak, Spliff's birthday and what are turning into really, really long conversations with my old high school crush (who I have decided to name V-Dub because he had a VW Beetle when we were in high school and I loved that car), I have been averaging 4-5 hours of sleep per night. If I am lucky. I've been having a lot of fun. I just wake up to find that there is literally not enough coffee in the entire state to wake me up.  (I have been considering mainlining.)

 

Yesterday was Spliff's 29th birthday so we got the gang together and headed out to dinner at Taco Lu.  (Margaritas, YAY!) I did the obligatory, buying of the birthday shot of Patron and Spliff did the obligatory, wincing routine after taking it like a champ.  And then there were vodka drinks. And then there were more vodka drinks. And then there was this shot that might have been Robitussin.  It was some sort of clear, grapey weirdness that nearly killed us. And then, you know, for good measure, we got beer and went home where Spliff devoured a bag of potato chips and left a trail all the way down the hallway and I, of course, stayed up until 3am drinking beer and talking to V-Dub.  (I think that name fits quite nicely.) Stupid, stupid, stupid.  I just don't learn.

 

So, this morning, I woke up to  the tragic realization that I had forgotten to set the timer on the coffee pot so it sat there. Empty and sad. But next to my empty coffee pot was a note from Spliff which read:  "Stal, I think I noshed on your orange chips last night. I hate myself."  This is funny for several reasons. First, the fact that she "thought" she noshed on the "orange chips" was funny but the funnier part was that the trail of chips in the hallway? A totally different kind from a totally different bag, which are now completely gone. That, my friends, is what we call the "drunchies".

 

Right now, Spliff, Han and I are sitting in the office hating ourselves. One of us from lack of sleep (me), one from the hangover from hell (Spliff) and one from the embarassment of a drunk dial (Han).  In fact, I just got an email with the subject "machine gun" and in the subject, just one word.  "Face".

 

We are having a lovely day, internet. I sort of want to die.