I’m eating a Spicy Baconator sandwich from Wendy’s instead of going to the gym. For those of you that aren’t aware, said sandwich features no vegetable accouterments, simply meat. Two patties separated from each other, and the buns, by cheese slices topped with six strips of bacon.
I’m excited that Wendy’s has added both Coke Zero and Fresca to their fountain menu, but saddened because it came at the expense of my beloved lemonade.
I still haven’t eaten that sandwich I’ve been craving since morning because I still can’t really focus my eyes for a long enough time to actually procure the ingredients.
I can’t go for a run because I’m nursing a hangover so bad it even beats that time when I got alcohol poisoning in first year.
The night started out with me begging the girls to stay in just a little bit longer, because I can’t stand going out before 11 – it’s unnecessary, especially when you’re planning on staying at the same bar all night.
The birthday girl kept putting on her coat as a signal that she was ready to leave, but I managed to stall and give myself more time to pregame with my discovery of a TLC cd and a request for an impromptu house tour.
I finished my drink hurriedly, and followed the gang out the door. We got to the bar around the corner only to be confronted by extensive lines at both entrances. Bummer. It was cold out and since The Pansy enjoys complaining about the weather almost as much as she abhors jackets of any sort – we quickly decided to drink at the hotel bar that in retrospect had an equally daunting line, but much quicker turnaround. We found a table rather easily, though chairs were a scarcer commodity, and got to drinking.
I can’t say exactly how much was drunk because I can only remember the first six pitchers. I also remember the string of admirers who swooped down on our table, only to have their advances rejected. There was a guy who was extolling the virtues of toilet paper and kept offering us squares. Eventually I just started cutting him down, as I tend to do with very little provocation, but I’m especially quick to do it when I’m intoxicated.
He was apparently so impressed with my quick witted-ness that he presented us with a pitcher and bowed as he walked away.
By the end of the night I was much drunker than I’d previously approximated and we abruptly called it quits after witnessing a bathroom stall therapy session (“No [redacted] you’re totally a legit friend, she’s the bitch!”). I remember being impressed that I hadn’t thrown up when I got a fit of the hiccups (my gag reflex leaves much to be desired) and repeatedly getting snaked for cabs at the end of the night, but I was too wasted to even bother making any real effort.
I woke up the next morning at 9:16, jolted awake by the whooshing of the heat kicking in. I was startled and still a little drunk. I rolled out of bed, and stepped on my computer as I fumbled towards the coffeemaker while simultaneously trying to figure out an outfit for the day ahead of me. I remembered that I had bought a couple of shirts at H&M the previous day because I’d gotten mustard on my shirt when I tried to shove an entire hamburger in my mouth (well, that’s what I imagined that I would have looked like to a casual observer as I less than gracefully wolfed down a burger in the back room at work mid-shift).
I don’t love the way the shirts fit, a little too short for my tastes but at $8, there’s about $15 cheaper than the ones I favour at American Apparel.
I quickly realized that I hadn’t yet purchased a March bus pass and tried to find some change, but since I hardly ever carry cash, all I could find were couple of twoonies, a loonie, and a dime. I didn’t know exactly what the cash rate for bus fare was, but I was guessing that it was more than $2.10. I inexplicably finished getting ready in the bathroom, coffee in hand, and put on my makeup before I got dressed.
There was only one barista in sight when I stopped by Starbucks on my way to work to make change so I opted to get water instead of more coffee because I figured once the grogginess wore off, I’d have a wicked headache. I chugged that entire 750ml bottle on Ethos while I waited for the light to change and braced myself for the day.