::Wake up, Sunday:: Surprisingly chipper, but likely just still drunk. I get a text from a guy I don't quite know and try to convince him to drive 45 minutes to make me waffles. No dice. Online dating is clearly just a sham and there's no such think as an easy waffle. Even on your birthday.
My friend who took care of me and got me home the night before - after the birthday festivities - leaves. I would later text him to find out why my mouth tasted like pizza. "You had pizza last night.". Well, that explains that.
Mid-day, I would request that my birthday "Pizza Party" turn into a Thai food delivery party because that fucking taste of stale, drunk, vodka pizza would never leave my mouth; even after brushing, brunch, Pepto Bismol and an entire box of Wintergreen Altoids. At that point, I thought I would throw up if I tasted anything that was remotely pizza-like, given the state of my mouth for the past 10 hours. That would not have been a sexy kiss.
But I didn't know. When I got up all I knew was 1. It was my birthday and 2. food. This is a good sign to wake up from your own birthday party not on the floor of a bathroom and in your own bed...and actually hungry and able to eat. My hangovers take the form of nausea and I usually spend the day trying to feed it better...with mixed results. After the waffle delivery failed, I called my girlfriend "Get up. It's time for brunch!" A buffet of delicious, it was. And then, four hours later, I thought I was going to hurl on the floor of her car: All of that delicious crab leg, biscuits and gravy and fruit and cheesecake mess...and maybe some old pizza, all while on our way to get another ice cream cake. Because that's all I wanted for my birthday and the slice the night before, while a heavenly surprise, only wet my palette for more. And apparently I am not fazed by the need to vomit when ice cream cake is involved.
When it comes to certain things for me, self control does not exist. DQ ice cream cake is one of those things. And apparently Altoids.
The day was spent watching one of my favorite movies and eating ice cream cake, reminiscing about the night before and assessing my bruises. Its been so many years since a birthday made me feel special; and I am well-aware I have my gracious friends - my chosen family - to thank. And while the appeal of a hangover never existed, it's kind of losing it's charm. I have one year left to test every hangover remedy ever, but I think after 30 it's probably not considered cute anymore.
"I'm okay with that," she thinks. And merrily strolls into the arms of Twenty Nine...