Sunday, March 16, 2008

What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells

Ahh... Sunday morning. I found myself awakened this Sunday morning, as I am on most Sunday mornings, at 9:15 to the glorious tintinnabulation of the bells from the Colonial looking church around the corner, calling the flock to gather for worship, or whatever it is Presbyterians flock together to do. At least I assume it involves worshiping the lord and then eventually exchanging stock tips, talking about golf and eating Waldorf salad.

Normally I find this a pretty nice way to wake up. I'm not a church goer myself, as it would be a little deranged since I'm a devout Agnostic, but church bells are OK in my book. It's a hell of a lot better than the ten thousand decibel rhythmic bleating of my alarm clock anyway.

But today I found the bells more like a death knoll.

Fuck. Shut up already.

Slightly befuddled, I also found myself in the guest room.

Slowly it started to come back to me. Last night's outing with Rachel and E to a night club and the two very large, house special cocktails I enjoyed. The server described the drink and the ingredients list of sugary booze was too long to keep track of when I ordered them as a sober person, let alone remember the day after.

I'm hung over (is that one word or two - I'm seeing double)?

I thought that I had downed enough water and waited a reasonable period of time before driving home. I felt fine. Not drunk at all. The only physical sign of ailment from the evenings events was throbbing feet from the bronze patent peep toe slingbacks I had decided to wear. I even stayed up a little bit when I got home and called MDH who is away in Indianapolis this weekend on a corporate Boondoggle for some big deal college basketball thingy, to let him know I was home safe and to whisper lovey-dovey goodnights into the phone.

Next thing I know I'm wrapped up in a polyester comforter on the sheet less bed in the guestroom cursing the goddamn Presbyterians and their goddamn fucking bells. The floor is strewn with my now wrinkled outfit. The shiny slingback resting next to my throbbing head causes me to notice that my feet are still throbbing with tiny blisters on each pinkie toe.

As a side note, the polyester comforter was a wedding present from my mother who never checks fabric content labels. It looks like gorgeous green and gold wide striped silk with gold braided trim, but it itches like a son of a bitch. I have a mark from the braiding embedded on my temple.

Why the guest room? Well, it's not uncommon for me to sleep in there when MDH is away. It's warmer in there as it's smaller than our cavernous master bedroom and for some reason the bed doesn't seem so empty.

Anyhoo... I'm not normally a drinker of giant cocktails containing shot samplings from then entire Bacardi flavors collection served in pint sized glasses. Certainly, I wouldn't normally drink two. I'm more likely to sip one martini, or a glass of red wine with a meal. On special occasions, like when it's blazing hot outside I may, if I'm feeling nutty or on the verge of profuse schwitzing , chug an ice cold beer or two. Who am I kidding? I never finish the second beer.

So hang overs are not commonplace. I probably haven't had one for... shit I don't even remember. I do however remember a time when I could drink half of a $5 bucket of beer all night (they used to serve Milwaukee's Best tap beer, literally in gallon mop buckets at a place I frequented called Mustard's. Come to think of it, it's where I met Dan and Nature Boy) and wake up fine. In fact I could get up, go to work all day and go out drinking all night all over again. I don't remember this head pain or feeling like my ears are numb and my eyes all fuzzy and made of cotton balls.

I'm too old for this. I need a drink.


Family Adventure said...

My head is now throbbing in sympathy.


Tara said...

Oh yuck, the last time I drank too much was a few years ago. I had, if I remember correctly, two glasses of wine and then a tall glass of Foster's beer. My eyes were swimmin. I got home safely and then thought I'd rest my eyes so I rested on my bed a bit. This was at 11pm next thing I knew, I woke up, the lights were still all on and it was 3am. Yikes! I felt horrible later that day and throughout the rest of that day.

Anonymous said...

The last time I woke with a bucket by the bed and a marching band playing in my head.

I feel for you. Now go back to bed.

The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch: said...

Heidi - ooh that's too bad - at least I got to enjoy the cocktails before the suffering began.

Tara - wow you're a cheap date like me!

Suze - no buckets here - just headache and general fogginess. I love how you're so bossy.

WendyB said...

Sounds like every morning to me.

I kid!

evil-e said...

I think I had a slight one this morning, but I now realize it was the lack of coffee that caused the headache. My stash at Renee's was used up.

Now I know I get along with you. We go to the same "church". I am a bad non-practicing, God-questioning agnostic myself. I gave up organized religion one year for lent and never looked back.

Renaissance Woman said...

Hair of the dog...that always does the trick. Hope you enjoy the sounds of the alarm in the morning better!

The Guv'ner said...

Hahaha. Hell who hasn't been THERE?

Hung over I mean, not in your guest bedroom!

I'm dying for a margarita. I think I'm going to make my own. There's nothing like knowing you have a bucket of icy tequila goodness in the freezer at any given time.

Feel better miss Lady!

And yeah. FUCKING church bells.

Anonymous said...

The cocktail flu is terrible. Take this to heart, it wasn't your fault. You were clearly overserved.

CDP said...

Overserved, exactly. It's been several years since I was overserved, and I probably had 3 drinks that night.

pistols at dawn said...

"I'm too old for this - I need a drink" has been my motto since I was 12.

Churlita said...

It's the sugar in those Bacardi drinks...And the mixture of alcohol. At least that's what I think. I made that mistake twice now with that Jamaican Me Crazy drink.

Del-V said...

I get hung over after more than 3 beers. What's wrong with me?

SkylersDad said...

You left out the best part of the story. Who did you wake up next to?

i am playing outside said...

time for the young'un to chime in:

hey lunchlady. yesterday was st patrick's day, as im sure you know. my drinking consisted of about 20 shots of straight whiskey, and then another shot of whiskey and a shot of vodka. my eating did not consist. in the half hour it took me to get home, i completely sobered up. i even worked on some homework. i woke up today with a kick in my step. ah, life.

Leonesse said...

Shhhhhhhh. Don't make too much noise and don't take a hot bath. Egads does that make it worse!