You know those awesome hangovers where you start out feeling fine? You head to work, on time no less, with the noble intention of getting a lot of work done for one Friday in your life. Then, right around lunch time you get hit with the shakes, you’ve got a cold layer of something that resembles sweat, but you’re sure it’s excreted booze. Your projects grind to a halt. You have problems focusing. Your head is suddenly full of steel wool and the sound of the shifting of your jeans makes you want to headbutt your knees for their impudence in not staying still.
That’s me in a nutshell. Absolutely worthless today, among other things.
I LOVE hangovers, and I say that with no sarcasm. They remind you that all fun comes with a price. Which means that fun barters in pain, that sado-masochist.
Current Mood: Fuzzy, Angry, Rheumatoid Arthritisey
PS: This link always gives me a laugh when it comes to hangovers: http://www.hungrymonster.com/humor/Jokes.cfm?jid=705
PPS: I do my best writing when I’m hungover. Almost all of the archived Miss(ed) Manners columns were written on a Friday (do the math). This point is of course hotly debated.