I'm Not Even Hung Over

Wah. I do not want to go to the Newcomers Open House. I want to stay in bed with the lights down listening to Tom Waits and doing some sort of long-format napping.

Full disclosure. for as much as I joke about drinking and being hung over, I don't really drink that much. Just not my style. I have had exactly two hangovers in my life. One was the morning after my 27th birthday party --two bands, two burlesque dancers and many many shots of tequila even though I didn't drink after midnight-- where I woke up the next morning face-down on the carpet, using my own fake hair as a pillow and clutching a giant roll of tin foil I had somehow collected during the evening.

The other was the morning the night Michael and I officially parted ways but had to be at a live DVD recording together. My friends lovingly kept me on one side of the building and Michael on the other. They also "lovingly" made sure that the beer I had in my hand was never empty, thus the two beers I thought I consumed ended up being many, many (many) more. Then two boys from California --one a former punk god with tattoos of monkeys all over his body and one with knuckle tattoos reading "LONG SHOT"-- stopped me from buying a Cadillac sight unseen and took me to have a bagel instead. Thanks boys!