After the kids went to bed last night I wandered over to my neighbor’s to say hi and wish her a happy new year. Five hours, seven drinks and a lot of laughter later, I came home drunk as a skunk and barely managed to stumble my way into my bed before passing out.
Note: Absolut Mandarin + Sprite= Nom!
I felt remarkably good when I woke-up. Tired, but that’s what happens when you get four hours sleep. And then…then noontime came…and I became convinced I was going to die.
Me: Oh my god. Is this what a hangover is like? This is awful!
Mr. G: (lists off symptoms, I whimper in agreement with each one) …and I really just wanted to die.
Me: YES. Oh god. This is terrible.
I gave up trying to be a hero (*snort*) while my head and stomach each vied for the victory of bringing my sorry ass down (my stomach won after a particularly hateful spasm and roll of nausea. Well played, tummy. Well played.).
And, lo, my very first new experience of 2012 was complete: at the age of 33 I finally had my first ever hangover! Tequila, gin, and beer don’t bring me down. But vodka? That bitch knocked me to my knees.
Happy 2012, y’all. Cheers.