How am I supposed to get any work done with all these pink elephants on my desk?

For someone who drinks as much as I do [read: "a drunk", not to be confused with an "alcoholic" who, unlike a drunk, has to go to "meetings"] I am rarely, if ever, hung over. Honest. Can count all my hangovers on one hand..partly because the point for me has never been to get drunk in the first place. No, I'm interested in the more genteel business of Buzz Acquisition and Maintenance, or BAM for you acronymphiles. BAM is a skill really, for some a calling. And when executed correctly does not a night with one's face in the toilet make.

So when I actually get a hangover my embarrassment is worse than the headache and sour tum. Hangovers are the domain of rank amateurs and weekend-warriors, high-school kids who can't drink anything that doesn't taste like candy, frat boys, sorority girls, post break-up bingers, anyone who has ever even looked at a bottle of Arbor Mist. Not me. Not a freaking professional for Christsakes.

The humiliation always drives me to the place I sit today: looking for an excuse or some other cause for 1) the drunkenness and 2) the hangover. Anything other than aligning myself with the rest of the pedestrians who, upon occasion, drink too much. Like starting to drink mimosa's with my friend maud at one in the afternoon, and then, after suffering a supremely girly (and frightening in its increasing frequency) bout with the "I am so fucking fat"'s in the afternoon, resume drinking until I left for a birthday party at a bar, where I drank even more. So sue me. And stop talking so Goddamn loud. And turn that light off.

Posted by Antigeist at July 14, 2003 07:35 PM