montezuma's revenge

So. Krystal and I had a long talk about how we are too fucking old to be pulling shit like we did on Sunday night. And on a fucking Sunday, the lord's day. Come on.

And I am usually such a prude. I usually have a couple beers and then I say, "Oh, no more for me, thank you. I'm driving." That totally did not happen last night. That Natalie stayed home on Sunday. She went to bed early like she usually does, which left early-20's self-destructive Natalie in charge. The same Natalie who drank too much rum a lot. The same Natalie who gave herself a black eye when she drank a bottle of Cruzan and then fell into the sink. The same Natalie who puked in the planter outside of Caz's. Yikes...

I feel like, for me, there is always a reason why I overdrink. There is always some kind of anxiety or tension or fear or something that I am trying to kill with liquor. So what emotions was I trying to drown on Sunday?

I think it probably has to do with Jenga. And by that I mean it has to do with my perceptions about my life, my very tenuous stability (which is an oxymoron and kind of doesn't make sense except in my head).

And maybe also it's weird to be friends with fancy South Tulsa people, even though it's not really like that. They are cool people who happen to live in South Tulsa.

And maybe also I have a really hard time saying "no," so of course I'll have another shot if you set it right in front of me. (This is my problem, not yours, obviously.)

I don't even like liquor. It tastes awful. I love beer though. It is delicious and my favorite. So I think the healthy thing for me is to mainly stick to good old beer, and save the liquor for the fancy people who actually like to drink it.

Also maybe I should relax a little.

being hung over is like winning the lottery, except they pay you in regret

Okay. So last night Krystal and I got really drunk at Emily's house. It was fun, but we hit it way too hard way too fast. And now I feel like a pile of crap because, apparently, my alcohol tolerance is very, very low.

So... Let's dissect the evening, see how and why it went awry. Now, I'm not saying it wasn't fun, because it was, but Krystal and I drank way, way too much.

We started out catch-up drinking because Emily and Jim were already a bit drunk when we arrived. We had two or three shots of Jaeger really quickly. That was probably not the best idea.

Then, after we ran out of Jaeger, we started drinking double-shots of shit tequila. I will repeat. Double-shots. Of shit tequila. 4 each. I believe this is where we went wrong. I know this is where we went wrong.

I'm not going to reinstate beer-only, but, believe me, I thought about it this morning when I woke up. Blarg.

But. We had fun in Emily's fancy South Tulsa house. And I got a T-Rex puppet. I made him say "Hot Crackers!" a lot. And then I got droopy and used him as a pillow. He is in my car right now with my nerdy camera t-shirt that Jim got me. I think I might have to wear it tomorrow.

I need to remind myself that this awful hangover is my own fault and it's just what happens when you drink poison: your body makes you pay for it. Last night reminded me why I don't drink very often.

Let this be a lesson to all of you: if you go to Emily's house, she'll try to kill you with alcohol.

No. I'm kidding. The real lesson is don't drink so fucking much on a Sunday when you have to be at work at 7 the next morning.

p.s. We may have taken mustache pics last night.