The Queen of Hangover Land

If I had a dollar for every time I swore off drinking due to a hangover, I'd have enough money to hire somebody to follow me around take drinks away from me.  Birthday celebrations went wonderfully, though I was unable to convince the boo to give me my birthday present early.  There was lots of drinking with my favorite people and alligators.

That girl up there was having such a nice time.  On top of my awesome friends and boyfriend and the reptiles, the weather was AMAZING.  The rain cleared up right when we got to Black Hammock, and it actually cooled down because of it.  Usually rain in Florida in the middle of July, leaves you with the kind of humidity that will make you want to die, but not this time.  It was great.  And that was it.  Lights out.  After these pictures were taken, on a scale of 1 to 10, I remember nothing. 

Not only do I not remember how I got in my own bed, I woke up next to an empty bottle of Sunny D.  Shit got crazy.  You know what you shouldn't do for your birthday?  Drink with a bunch of boys and Sheila.  Somebody go back in time right now and tell that girl to put that shot of Jager down.  And that shot of Jim Beam.  While you're at, take that Fireball away from her, too.  That's right.  I said it.  This is the kind of hangover that makes me want to break up with my favorite cinnamon whiskey.  I don't know who I thought I was last night, but whoever she is needs to take care of her liver and get right with Jesus.

What happened to the girl who could guzzle some Rumplemintz, climb on a dinosaur, take a nap in some bushes, and still make it to work on time the next day with a smile on her face?  I haven't even been able to make it to the shower yet today.  I debating asking the boyfriend to grab the hose and just spray me down. Hangovers used to not even phase me.  Nothing a two liter of Sprite and some pizza for breakfast couldn't take care of.  Today, I'm hoping for the Apocalypse.  I just hope Jesus doesn't get mad if I'm still drunk when He gets here.  I get it, you're disappointed in me.  Me too, buddy.  Me too.

But, just like every birthday that makes me want to quit the sauce, I'll be eating my words this time next year.  I'll swear up and down I'll take it easy the next birthday and then, next thing you know, bottoms up.

And on that note, I'm off to roll over to the other side of the bed, so I can say I actually did something today.  Plus, the world's greatest boyfriend just walked in with an omelet and about eight different things I can dip in syrup.  If he sticks around to see it all come back up in about 30 minutes, I'll know he's the one.

Help me.