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.