Albert Einstein once said, “Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.” To him I say, “Two more things are infinite: alcohol induced memory loss and waking up confused; both of which I’m sure of.”
You wake up in bed sporting the two-piece pajama set your mom got you for Christmas. Your phone is plugged in, showing a full battery icon. The sun is peaking through the blinds, waking you with the beauty of a new day. You slide out of bed, adorning yourself in a floor length terrycloth bathrobe and walk to the bathroom to brush your teeth before making your way to the kitchen. You have the tiniest hint of cotton mouth so you gulp down a glass of water before checking your phone for messages.
Jake: Hey man, you wanna go watch the game downtown?
You: Sure, meet you there around 11.
You take a quick shower, make your bed then drive to the bar for some beer, wings and time with the boys.
You wake up on the couch with your shoes on. You find multiple crumpled up bar receipts in your pant pocket and immediately check your online bank account, hoping those fancy cocktails you had last night weren’t actually $16 a pop. They were. Reaching in your other pocket you find your cell.
*No new messages*
What a waste of a night out. You retreat to the kitchen and chug a Gatorade and choke down a few Advil to keep the dehydration headache away. Realizing you spent the remainder of your weekly drinking budget on a shitty night out, you opt to do equally shitty things like laundry, dishes and vacuuming for the rest of the day.
You wake up with a half-eaten Papa John’s pizza on your bedside table and a #14 from Jimmy Johns lying next to you. Your room reeks of roast beef and regret. The TV is on, playing infomercials on a loop. Immediately you have flashbacks from the bar last night. “Did I give that guy a lap dance to Call Me Maybe?” you think to yourself, horrified because you know the answer is yes. You find your phone in your purse, battery dead, and plug it in to charge so you can get the details from your girls on what went on last night. **longest five minutes of your life— phone powers on**
Michelle: Are you alive?
Carolyn: What happened to you?
Hanna: Did you leave with the bearded professor??
Brittany: Call me
The nausea is replaced by a sinking feeling of shame. You definitely browned out, but facing the facts is too much to handle without a bloody mary in hand.
You: OMG no idea what happened last night. Brunch at 1? I need a drink.
You wake up in a bed that isn’t yours. Quickly you realize the bed must belong to the stranger sprawled out next to you. Without waking sleeping beauty, you begin to search the room for anything familiar. Your salvation rests just below the “Keep Calm And Drink Cosmos” picture on the wall. You can see your phone lighting up over and over with incoming messages. Sunrise is threatening your plea to escape unnoticed. You barrel roll out of bed and tip-toe out of the room with underwear in hand. You make a dash for the front door, breathing a sigh of relief before puking in the bushes. After hailing a cab you relax and find out what the hell happened last night.
Jake: You close that 6 from the bar?
You: No idea. In a cab home now.
Jake: Wanna come over, get high and light shit on fire?
You: Need sleep first, then ya.
You exit the cab with what little dignity you have left and walk of shame up to your apartment. The duration of the day is spent sleeping, eating and puking like the grown ass infant you are.
You wake wrapped in soggy sheets. The smell of piss and blood is hanging heavy in the air. Your iPhone screen is cracked, your wallet missing, and you’re pretty sure your hand is broken. Fuck it. You pass back out.