======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
Nicki Minaj is rapping at the moment, a featured guest on a song that sounds eerily similar to every single song she’s ever been featured on. The verse is interchangeable. It could be from a song released last week or fours years ago. It doesn’t really matter. She’s perfected a formulaic flow that, in the moment, as I sit at the foot of my bed, is nauseating.
The upstairs neighbors are getting ready for a night out on the town, and I can hear every word to the song they’re pregaming to through the thin floorboards of the apartment building. Normally, this sort of thing wouldn’t bother me as it’s a Saturday night, but I have a wicked hangover and it’s not even 7:30 p.m.
I decided last Saturday to do a little day drinking following a harrowing Christmas shopping experience. Nothing puts me on edge quite like Christmas shopping in December. It’s close quarters in every store and only true degenerates have put off shopping until the last minute.
You have screeching mothers and their children running amok, hungover patrons (like myself who went out Friday night even though they knew that they would have to get up the next morning and hit the department stores) just trying to get in and out of places as quickly as possible, and then you have people who don’t seem to know what exactly they’re doing inside of a store.
They’re like zombies, constantly staring down at their phones and just sort of half-looking at things with no real intention of buying. Suffice it to say that after three hours of that bullshit I was ready for a drink (or seven, as it ended up being).
I met up with a few friends following my nightmare of a morning at a place where I knew I could watch college basketball and also enjoy some decent food. I started off with a bloody mary, and then switched my order to Miller Lites for the entirety of the Troy-North Texas game. This shouldn’t come as news to anyone reading this, but alcohol makes any game, no matter how inconsequential, quite a bit more exciting than it would be without it. Troy-North Texas is a great example.
I was on my way to getting noticeably drunk by my third or fourth Miller Lite. The level at which I was talking increased in decibel level and I even started doing the “Oh, COME ON!” with two arms outstretched towards the television when a ref would miss a holding call or pass interference. All of this for the fucking New Orleans Bowl.
Following the Miller Lites, the table opted to end the day drinking session with two pitchers of margaritas. This is where things kind of got off the rails for me. By the time the pitchers had been relieved of all of their liquid, I was hammered.
I had a Christmas party starting around 9:00 p.m. that I was obligated to attend. The clock read 4:30 p.m. when everyone had settled up with the waitress, and on Saturday, 4:30 is essentially do-or-die time for the rest of the evening. The witching hour was upon me, and I had two choices laid out in front of me.
The smart, experienced day-drinker will realize that the only feasible option is to continue drinking. This should have been the play, and as I stumbled back to my apartment a little voice inside of my head was telling me not to do what I really, really wanted to do, which is nap.
I knew, even at this level of inebriation, that taking a nap would severely hamper my chances of making it to this Christmas party. I napped anyways because I’m an idiot. The rest of the night was an uphill battle that I couldn’t win.
I drank beer when I first arrived to the party, thinking that if I could just ease myself back into drunken territory the hangover I had would go away. The beer just made me sleepy, and when I switched to liquor I could only choke down a few sips at a time before feeling sick.
I operated at something like 40% all night long, and it’s all because my dumbass couldn’t resist lying down in bed and closing my eyes for an hour. The moral of this long winded story is simple- if you’re day drinking, do not stop until the clock reads 2:00 a.m. A midday nap following a day drink only spells defeat, and in this time of non-stop holiday celebration, I can’t think of better advice than I have just given you. There truly is no time for napping. Save that shit for January..