======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
I learned something new this weekend while in Houston. There’s something called a “Tomatillo Bloody Mary.” I mean, it essentially tastes like salsa verde but when you’re hungover, there are worse things to mainline into your body that salsa verde. I don’t know. I only had one but I wish I had ordered another. Such is life.
If you haven’t already, you need to subscribe to The Sunday Scaries Podcast on Apple Podcasts and Spotify. While this week’s episode followed a different format, almost every single one is fifteen minutes of three different topics. One normally has to do with going out (or the effects of going out), one with a trend synonymous with yuppie scum, and one that’s just something that interests me personally.
Here was this past week’s episode:
Now let’s get into this weekend’s crop of stories. As always, these are anonymous and sent directly to me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
I’m writing to you at noon on Saturday. I got home from work yesterday(Friday), put sweat pants on and told myself I wasn’t leaving my couch that night. Boy was I wrong.
So my mom invites me to dinner with my parents, aunt, uncle and cousin. I figure I’ll just go and get a free dinner then go home and continue my chill Friday night. We get to the restaurant and while waiting on a table, get several drinks at the bar. Have several more during dinner, and by the time we’re done eating, we’re all on our way to being hammered. There was live music and we’re just having a good time listening and singing along, when the brown out hits me(it’s only about 11 at this point) Here’s what little I remember from the next 12 hours or so.
At some point I start talking to a group of guys at the table behind us and end up going to the bar to get drinks with one of them, talk to him for awhile at the bar and the only thing I really remember from the conversation is him saying “I want to kiss you so bad right now” as some of my family is right on the other side of the restaurant. Somehow ended up in a hallway at the back of the restaurant by the bathrooms where I made out with this guy right around the corner from the tables. Walk back out and sit down at the table with my aunt, uncle, cousin and her boyfriend like nothing happened. They decide to call it a night, so I say I’ll get an Uber home, but did not get an Uber home.
The guy says I should go out with them, so I’m walking with him to get an Uber and I guess decided to be responsible and go home. Get like 2 minutes away from home and for some reason made the driver turn around and take me to the bar to meet back up with this guy. Get to the bar, go to get drinks that I definitely didn’t need and have texts from this guy that we were at the same bar but I don’t remember ever seeing him again. Used my corporate card to buy drinks, so it should be fun explaining that one to my boss. Oh and then I ended up going home with a DIFFERENT guy. Woke up on the complete other side of the city and had to take a 25 minute Uber home at 7 AM that I barely remember because I was still drunk and now I’m contemplating taking plan b.
My anxiety is at a 15/10, making me think I’m somehow going to get fired for this. I’m sitting at my desk on Monday morning (because I couldn’t muster up the energy to finish this email until now) trying to convince myself that no one here could possibly know what happened and I’m just being paranoid.
Seriously thinking about quitting drinking this time.
I swear, the nights when you tell yourself you’re going to keep it “chill” or “low key” are the nights that spiral the hardest. Maybe because you’ve already given up, or maybe because your expectations are just so low that you don’t care what happens anymore.
I legitimately have no idea how you explain the charges to your boss — maybe you say it was a potential client? You screwed up which card you gave the bartender? IDK. IDK.
I took Le’Veon Bell #1 overall in my fantasy draft over Gurley. My team is 3-7.
Man. I hate fantasy football.
I don’t know if you’re still doing this but I’ve got a big one. So I was drunk after watching football all day at a bar with my friend. At this bar I meet a cute girl. After a few drinks and an hour of conversation, cute girl tells me she is bisexual. I being drunk and honest, tell her that I’ve hooked up with men before because I have. My friend over heard me and freaked out alittle over my “bisexuality.” Look I don’t consider my self bisexual, because I don’t want to date men. But at the same time it’s 2018 and I’ve experimented with my sexuality. Now it’s 5:45 and I can’t sleep because I’m freaking out. I also left my card at the bar…. Fuck me for being honest.
Hell yeah, let that flag fly, my dude. The worst part of this is leaving your card at the bar because that’s the worst part of any hangover. Tell your friend to deal with it.
Went back to my Alma Mater. Had a blast.
Love postgrad man, good stuff. Last night me and my friends got a table at the club last night. Paid $55 a head to pretend we were cooler than everyone else. While we were jammed on the elevated surface looking at the peasants below someone accidentally slung their hand back and their watch sliced my upper lip open. A bouncer handed me a tissue and I bolted to the bathroom like Zeke Elliot. Spent this morning in urgent care getting stitched up, collecting sympathy replies to my snapstory. A slight get off honestly but I’m worthless.
Remember that episode of Succession when Tom and Cousin Greg were just standing in the VIP section of a club with no one else around and they realized the stupidity of VIP sections? Yeah, that’s this. Might as well just stay home.
I went to a wedding Saturday night for a good friend from college, which was awesome because it was basically a giant, drunken reunion. Nothing too eventful happened there, but I did get absolutely hammered, and was 100% still drunk when i woke up today (still in my dress and heels). I didn’t start feeling hungover until around 1 or 2pm, I threw up the pub sub I ate earlier, and because I felt like garbage all day, I haven’t been able to pack for vacation. I’m now writing to you from my guest bed because there was a cockroach on my bed which I was unable to find. Then there was a second cockroach in the guest room that I successfully killed, but now it feels like bugs are crawling all over me and I’m super on edge. I hate nothing more than starting the week off with a rough night’s sleep. Thank god it’s a short week.
I don’t remember what year it was but I had a case of the Sunday Scaries — a bad one. I couldn’t sleep and it was the middle of summer when I’d normally sleep with my bedroom windows open. I felt this tickle only to rip my sheets off and reveal three centipedes at my feet. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. RIP.
Well this is truly embarrassing, but here we go.
Had a shitty week and went out with my “not boyfriend” (we haven’t had the talk yet) where I proceeded to order seafood at this nice restaurant. Why you ask considering I’m not in a coastal city? I don’t want to be fat, ok.
Things were good, food was great we had drinks after dinner and were home and in bed before midnight. Flash forward a few hours and I’m panicking. I’m sick as can be. I’m throwing up, but I know the inevitable is coming and I can’t poop and throw up at this guys house. We’re just not there yet. I try to stifle it all and go back to sleep until I can muster up a good enough reason to leave before 8am. Once it becomes socially acceptable for me to get up I quickly dress and offer to take the dog out. I barely make it out of the apartment before I’m throwing up in my hand with four flights of stairs to climb down. This is my lowest point so I thought. I get the dog back in the house, fumble an excuse to leave and barely get in my car to where I know I have to puke again. It takes me twenty minutes to get home and I’m sick all day with food poisoning.
I really hope he invites me to thanksgiving with his family this week and one day I can laugh about this. As for now I’m enjoying how skinny I look due to this weekend’s illness & feeling sorry to my professors for lying about food poisoning at least once a semester.
The spin zone you put on this is spectacular. As someone who was told numerous times, “Wow! You look great!” after getting Swine Flu, my only advice is this: embrace it. .