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Monday, May 23, 2005

Euthanasia, Cremation, Scattering

Some days are simply not meant to be enjoyed. I expected to spend my Monday like a cheerful upstanding worker bee. An obnoxiously happy person. The one you hate, the one with a monopoly on sunshine and radiance. Everything would be wonderful for me. Mr Productive! Mr. You Betcha! Mr. Thumbs Up!

Not a fucking chance. I'm going to take a nap as soon as I finish typing this self pitying heap of letters.

I'm still not normal after this weekend. I flaked out on helping my sister move to her new apartment on Saturday. She didn't call me until late on Friday night, but I had made plans late into the night and I was already in full swing. I tried to make it there on Saturday, but by the time I could leave to help she didn't seem to want my help anymore, and spoke to me with dismissive exasperation. I felt guilty, perhaps irrationally. So I went out that night and drank a boatload of liquor and indulged in a few other ill-advised confections.

I landed on a couch at 3am. I was sweating gallons, feverish, and breathing raggedly. I wanted desperately to fall asleep, but vertigo and my body temperature chased away any notion of rest for a long time. Friends became concerned.


Next time, avoid free mystery drugs from strangers.

"Are you okay? Why are you sweating? It's cool in here."

"I'm fine, just a little dizzy. Don't worry about it."

"Steve, you're pale. You look terrible. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just feeling tired and thristy. Don't I smell great?"

"I'll give you that. That's a hell of a nice deodorant."

"Yep."

"Want another beer?"

"Uh....no. Water. On ice. How about that?"

"Sure, be right back."

My hangover the next day was punishing. Through all of Sunday I felt like I'd been stuffed down a sumo wrestler's thong right before a match. Gargantuan slimy buttocks mashed me left and right, simultaneously suffocating me and tenderizing me into pulpy swampass grease.


Tag me, bag me, slag me.

Finally my day of purgatory ended. I managed to fall asleep after I finished watching Every Which Way But Loose. I slept for three fitful hours before my cruel alarm twisted its diamond corkscrew into my ears with malicious glee.

My eyes feel like frying yolks, my brain feels like a nerf football getting chewed up by a really dumb dog, and I think I'm going to swear at everybody who reads this in hope that it'll make me feel better.

Fuck you. Nope, didn't help. Once more, with feeling. Fuck All Of You. Nothing. I guess I'll just have to feel sorry for myself for the rest of the day.
8:15 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm

9 Comments:

May 23, 2005 9:36 AM, Blogger Floyd said...

Poor, poor bastard. I feel your pain. Go throw up on your boss' desk, insist it's food poisoning and go home to see what Oprah says about it. You deserve another day off.

 
May 23, 2005 9:48 AM, Blogger karen gsteiger said...

Oh, that's no fun...I hope you're feeling better by now. When copious vomiting is taking place and you can't hold your liquids, I've found that a 50-50 water/Gatorade mixture is nice. Not too painfully acidic.

The dead feet pic is going to have me creeped out for the rest of the day. I'm not a big fan of feet to begin with...shudder.

--karen

 
May 23, 2005 10:20 AM, Blogger Kerouaced said...

The way you explain stuff is damn funny. The analogy of your hangover feeling like you'd been stuffed down a sumo wrestlers thong was great...

 
May 23, 2005 10:32 AM, Blogger Lostinspace said...

don't swear at me :) i was hung over all weekend. vomited and nauseous all saturday, and i still had to go to my fucking bar class. hope you feel better, plastered out allover your desk in your nap.

 
May 23, 2005 12:48 PM, Blogger ty bluesmith said...

ditto.

slept two hours in a lazy boy both nites.

 
May 23, 2005 12:52 PM, Blogger P/O said...

fuck you.

hey, that actually does help.

feel better, fucker.

 
May 23, 2005 1:16 PM, Blogger Anonysis said...

whoops. Did you hear big Sis on WGN this morning telling Kathy&Judy why SHE had the worst weekend ever?
Yeah. You both need a day off.

 
May 23, 2005 1:23 PM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Nope. But I bet it's partly my fault.

 
May 23, 2005 2:34 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

Kindly delete the feet. They are stinking up the entire Internet. Just because you're gagging doesn't mean you have to pass the favor along.

 

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