Friday night was out of hand. The result: the worst hangover I've had since 2004. I woke up in a once white t-shirt that had spots of wine and beer dribbled up and down my front. After I puked a couple times at my friend's house, we decided that a greasy spoon breakfast might cure my horrid condition. Looking like a heroin addict, I manage to stagger into this diner. But, as soon as we walked in, I 1. drank water which triggered my acute puke reflex, and 2. looked so shitty and that this skinny gay waiter who may or may not have had AIDS *jokingly* offered me a line of coke to perk up. I ran into this same waiter en route to the sleaziest restroom I have been in for a very long time, where I was going to puke. He and I then shared a moment, as he thought I looked so shitty that I needed a special embrace. We hugged it out, and he explained that he was also horribly hung over, so he felt my pain. I was finally able to get some awesome runny egg yolk in my tummy and keep it down; it was the cat's pajamas! On our way out as we were paying, our gay waiter expounded up his dreadful hangover with an anecdote about his antagonizing boyfriend:
"This morning while I was in the shower, my boyfriend kept picking up my little pomeranian and lifting him up over the shower curtain, making him peek in on me. I was like, "I'm not in the mood,"'
We asked no questions, laughed and left. What a way to start the day!
Conversely, I just ended my day with a long hot bath, a leisure read, a cup of tea and a really awesome aromatherapy facial. Certainly, I am feeling much better than I was this morning!
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