welcome to hell! population: me.
i would like to talk about a few things that happened this weekend. i saw a great movie, The Last Kiss, which was much better than i ever expected. i baked an apple pie from scratch, including the pastry. yes, the pastry! and then i experienced four of the most hellish hours i've ever had in my entire life. hmmm...where to begin? let's start with the hellish four hours. it is thematic with monday mornings, afterall.
on saturday night, i went over to cheryl's house to meet up with a few friends and have a wine and cheese party. we got there and cheryl had an amazing spread out, with about 8 different types of cheese, a fruit plate, various crackers and breads, and MULTIPLE BOTTLES OF WINE. this is our first clue that something will be going wrong: free wine? lots of cheese? i don't have to worry about driving home? (vanessa drove me). WHERE DO I SIGN UP, PLEASE PASS THE WINE.
it was an awesome night that became progressively more awesome as the night moved on (and the glasses of wine were consumed). chardonnay! and brie! with lingonberry jelly! merlot! friendship! gorgonzola! happiness!
by 11:00 p.m., i was not just half in the bag, I WAS ENTIRELY IN THE BAG. i OWNED the bag. the bag was attached to my body.
i remember falling off a chair when we saw a bug near the table. i also remember spitting out water (thankfully not wine) when someone (i don't remember who) said something that seemed like the funniest thing i had ever heard. i remember thinking that the walk up to the bathroom was going to be one of the hardest walks of my entire life.
vanessa got me home safe and sound by 2:00 and i crashed into bed. i had an awful night's sleep, though. i was hot, clammy, and kept tossing and turning. at 7:30 a.m. i worked up the courage to get a glass of water and that's when the hell began. i had a pounding headache and then my stomach began turning. and turning and turning. to spare you the grim details, i will only say that i was kneeling at the porcelain throne MULTIPLE times, that is when i was not sitting on the porcelain throne. ok, so maybe i am not sparing you the grim details. at one point, i remember sitting on the bathroom floor and calling out to my mom (who was asleep because she has a nasty cold) to ask her if she could get me a glass of pop (oddly, when i am sick to my stomach, the only thing i can fathom consuming is flat pop). but she wasn't waking up so i actually contemplated going down the stairs on my butt because the mere thought of STANDING UP was unfathomable. at around noon i began to feel better, and a hot shower seemed to make it all...bearable. i was supposed to drive back to toronto that morning and go see a blue jays game with TSM and his bro's family, but that, needless to say, did not happen.
so that was my four hours of pure hell. y'see, i am not much of a drinker at all. i have never had a hangover before, let alone consumed enough alcohol to FORCE MY BODY TO EXPEL IT. i actually never understood why anyone would drink enough to cause vomiting. like who would be idiotic enough to do that? i probably won't be questioning that anymore.
but i made it out alive and learned a couple of things.
1. gorgonzola cheese is delicious
2. although i can never have it again because
3. i associate it with wine and
4. wine is evil
5. and even the sight of a bottle of it will make me spew
6. of that i am convinced
7. if anything, this experience made me bond with my mom who said that her one and only nasty hangover came in the form of Southern Comfort. my cute little mom who loves quilting and Coronation Street was a drunkard! she said that if my dad mixes her a drink that has even a tiny hint of Southern Comfort, she can detect it right away and can't drink it. classic mom.
the rest of the day and night i just cuddled with TSM (who was incredibly amused by all of this and kept calling me his drunky), read, watched Studio 60, and prayed to God that i would never experience a hangover ever again.
on saturday night, i went over to cheryl's house to meet up with a few friends and have a wine and cheese party. we got there and cheryl had an amazing spread out, with about 8 different types of cheese, a fruit plate, various crackers and breads, and MULTIPLE BOTTLES OF WINE. this is our first clue that something will be going wrong: free wine? lots of cheese? i don't have to worry about driving home? (vanessa drove me). WHERE DO I SIGN UP, PLEASE PASS THE WINE.
it was an awesome night that became progressively more awesome as the night moved on (and the glasses of wine were consumed). chardonnay! and brie! with lingonberry jelly! merlot! friendship! gorgonzola! happiness!
by 11:00 p.m., i was not just half in the bag, I WAS ENTIRELY IN THE BAG. i OWNED the bag. the bag was attached to my body.
i remember falling off a chair when we saw a bug near the table. i also remember spitting out water (thankfully not wine) when someone (i don't remember who) said something that seemed like the funniest thing i had ever heard. i remember thinking that the walk up to the bathroom was going to be one of the hardest walks of my entire life.
vanessa got me home safe and sound by 2:00 and i crashed into bed. i had an awful night's sleep, though. i was hot, clammy, and kept tossing and turning. at 7:30 a.m. i worked up the courage to get a glass of water and that's when the hell began. i had a pounding headache and then my stomach began turning. and turning and turning. to spare you the grim details, i will only say that i was kneeling at the porcelain throne MULTIPLE times, that is when i was not sitting on the porcelain throne. ok, so maybe i am not sparing you the grim details. at one point, i remember sitting on the bathroom floor and calling out to my mom (who was asleep because she has a nasty cold) to ask her if she could get me a glass of pop (oddly, when i am sick to my stomach, the only thing i can fathom consuming is flat pop). but she wasn't waking up so i actually contemplated going down the stairs on my butt because the mere thought of STANDING UP was unfathomable. at around noon i began to feel better, and a hot shower seemed to make it all...bearable. i was supposed to drive back to toronto that morning and go see a blue jays game with TSM and his bro's family, but that, needless to say, did not happen.
so that was my four hours of pure hell. y'see, i am not much of a drinker at all. i have never had a hangover before, let alone consumed enough alcohol to FORCE MY BODY TO EXPEL IT. i actually never understood why anyone would drink enough to cause vomiting. like who would be idiotic enough to do that? i probably won't be questioning that anymore.
but i made it out alive and learned a couple of things.
1. gorgonzola cheese is delicious
2. although i can never have it again because
3. i associate it with wine and
4. wine is evil
5. and even the sight of a bottle of it will make me spew
6. of that i am convinced
7. if anything, this experience made me bond with my mom who said that her one and only nasty hangover came in the form of Southern Comfort. my cute little mom who loves quilting and Coronation Street was a drunkard! she said that if my dad mixes her a drink that has even a tiny hint of Southern Comfort, she can detect it right away and can't drink it. classic mom.
the rest of the day and night i just cuddled with TSM (who was incredibly amused by all of this and kept calling me his drunky), read, watched Studio 60, and prayed to God that i would never experience a hangover ever again.