Mood: Weird, I just can’t seem to get back to normal
Listening to: Losing My Religion – R.E.M. Kickin it old
school today
So I’m having a day today that really should be devoted to
working. Am I? Hello, have we met? I’m like the queen of procrastination when
it comes to writing. Writing is an excellent enabler, for those so inclined.
Anywho. On to the fallout of last weekend.
I decided to conduct a little experiment/last ditch effort
in order to avoid going to the hospital in search of a qualified physician to
eradicate the plague going on I my stomach. I was running out of interesting
ways to describe this nonsense, so it was time for it to go.
Off I went to my local liquor store, where I’m sure all of
the degenerates out front thought that I was an easy, drunk lush for buying
alcohol by myself. Yes, that’s how the locals view that kind of thing here.
Luckily, not only is none of that true, I don’t care if they do think that. One
overpriced bottle of vaguely red wine later and I’m heading home. After being a
mostly responsible parent and packing the kids off to bed at the appropriate
time, it was time to pop that bad boy open. Although not what I usually drink, it was from
the same winery and very, very drinkable. Trying new wine in India is kind of a
crapshoot. They didn’t have my regular bottle, so I was hoping this wasn’t
going to taste like industrial strength floor cleaner. Stop laughing, it’s a
tragic thing to look forward to a bottle and have that happen.
Said virus had been making me very uninterested in eating
anything beyond an occasional piece of bread or other bland carbs. As the
evening passed, I got engrossed in some outstanding work and suddenly realized
that not only was I completely snookered, I had forgotten to eat, which
probably explained the whole situation. A few things to note:
- This Dutch girl can handle her liquor. Or I used to be able to. As drinkable alcohol here costs about as much as a first born child, we don’t drink anywhere near as much as we did getting wholesale liquor from New Hampshire when we lived in the states. Thus my tolerance has been cut in half and I tend to forget it.
- I’ve lost some weight, which also translates into a much lower vino tolerance. I tend to forget this too.
About this time, I decided that going outside for a walk was
just the thing. I live in a huge apartment complex in a compound. We have
guards walking around 24/7 to ensure nothing crazy goes down. I know, it sounds
like we own Bangalore, but it’s not really like that, compounds and guards are
pretty standard for normal living here. As it was around midnight, the place was
deserted. I found myself outside of a Ganesha statue contemplating religion and
then walking around laughing like a hyena for indulging in spiritual
contemplation. Religion just isn’t my thing. I ended up getting quite a few smirks out of the guards as I stumbled around laughing drunkenly, which only made me laugh more. What can I say, I'm a happy drunk. I came back home and wrote a post
that a few people swear is amazing because it’s coherent. I can’t remember much
more than I wrote it and it took forever to write because the red squiggly
lines under everything that came out mangled because my fingers were numb drunk
and couldn’t type normally drove me nuts.
Shortly after that, I decided it was bed time. I was at that
wonderful place where you’re completely and utterly hammered, but one more sip
of anything and the world will start spinning. So Put. The. Bottle. Down.
I was not a partier when I was younger. I married young, had
kids young, and went to college online because I kept losing credits every time
we moved and I had to transfer colleges. I didn’t even start drinking until I
was 25. I can count the number of hangovers I’ve had on one hand, and not
because I never over did it. Alcohol just never seemed to knock me on my ass
the next day. The last time that
happened was on New Year’s eve of this year. It involved lots of vino, blackdog whiskey (I am a big whiskey girl), pouting about missing family, and a very ill-advised coffee intake.
Well folks, I think I had it coming. I don’t know if it was
the dying revenge of that virus, an actual, legitimate,
make-you-want-to-rip-your-own-head-off hang over, a completely random sinus head ache, or a
combination of all of those, but I was laying on the couch suffering all day
Sunday. It was one of those times when you swear upon everything unholy and
sinful that you will never, ever, drink anything close to alcoholic again, even
though you know you will. It may have been that I didn’t get my morning coffee.
Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I am a junkie. A complete and
utter coffee junkie. However, coffee is one of the worst things on earth to
ingest after overdoing the alcohol. Most of my other hang overs have been
directly related to trying to drink coffee the next morning. Coffee, you are
one jealous ho.
After much random napping/lots of water/lots of time, I
generally felt a bit better. And damned if this little experiment didn’t work,
even if it did make me cry for my mommy while hung over. The virus has been
vanquished. It’s almost enough to make me want to crack open another bottle.
Almost, that lesson is still a little too fresh for me.
There you are folks. Easy stomach remedy. You’re welcome.
Hopefully now we can move on to non-scat related posts. Lord knows I’m ready
to!
*Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. I do not even play one on
TV. Do not come back to me if this experiment backfires on you.
Becky
