Why I Am Never Drinking Again

Now, I know, everyone in their life has said this at least five times but this time I really mean it. As I think back to Thursday/Friday, I could not get Larry Miller's Five Levels of Drinking out of my head but that is besides the point. Allow me to embarass myself and recount this tale of woe.

So Thursday night, some co-workers and I went out to this spot Arriba, Arriba for a going-away party. They have these 60 oz. Margarita in a glass the size of a baby with down syndrome's head. So we each had one. Anyone who knows me knows I finished even this massive drink with the quickness. I ordered a medium (27 oz) and put that one away as well. I know I had a Heineken on top of that which we were there.

That is where the story gets a little fuzzy.

We went to another location at about 8 PM and met up with some more people. Even though I did not pull out my wallet once, I was told I had at least one beer and I may or may not have had a shot of something.

Acording to eyewitness testimony, I mysteriously left about 10:45 - 11:00 PM by myself for no reason.

I don't remember anything else.

I woke up around 4 AM on the 1 train at the last stop (Van Cortlandt Park-242 Street)...

Covered from chest to shoes* in my own vomit (dried vomit, I might add).

After the complete shock, I took the train back to 96th Street and started feeling quesy again so I got out to take a cab.

While I was waiting for a cab, a cute woman asked me if I wanted to split a cab with her. I said sure, not thinking "Oh my God, I'm covered in puke." All I thought was she had a better shot of getting a cab than I did. When we got in the cab, I climbed in first and kept my back to her. When we reached her stop (or the point where she couldn't take the smell anymore), she gave me two dollars (the ride had been 4 bucks up to that point but I was not in a position nor a state of mind to quibble).

When I finally got home, I had to take my car and park it on the opposite side of the street (anyone who has a car in the city knows how annoying this is) which took me another 15 minutes. So I got back into my apartment at 5 AM. My alarm usually goes off at 5:30 AM. So fo course I thought "I'll just lie down for a little bit". I have to be at work by 8 AM. I woke up at 10 AM.

I still came into work. I refuse to be "that person" who goes out for drinks with co-workers and then calls out sick. Because all everyone does is talk about how much of a punk they are (Sorry, Kev). But when I got there, I was happy to find out that I did not throw up at the bar or make any type of ass of myself in public in front of co-workers. Whatever happened to me happened on the way to or on the subway.

Oh yeah, the best part...when I was emptying out my pockets, I found a $10 bill that I am 90% sure I did not have before. I think someone gave it to me because they thought I was homeless.

So from now on, I am the Cranberry Juice bitch**.

* It's a gross picture. You have been warned.
** Unless I throw a party at home where my bed is less than 10 feet away.