Uuuunnnngggghhh...

I. am. so. hungover.

To quote one of the only bloggers I habitually read...

"Jesus H. Christ on a bike... Argh."

I couldn't in good faith claim the wordage as my own and (being the avid benefactor of talent that I am) had been meaning to do this guy a solid anyway with some P&A on my own less accomplished blog. And yes, he's British.

Anyway. Back to me.

I remember always laughing when people over the age of 35 would complain about not being able to bounce back as easily after a night of partying. Thinking, Ha! That'll never happen to me. In my exuberant, bouncy youth I rarely suffered hangovers and was sure I was immune. Granted, I've never been the hardcore 5-nights-a-week type, but I've done my fair share and handled it with aplomb. Four Ecstasy-fueled nights in a row in Miami when I was 21... Combat bowling until 3am on shots of Baileys and vodka when I was 23... Film premiere after-partying until it was time to shower for work the next morning when I was 25... Speaking of work... Two years of coke, booze and late nights in the middle of the week then rolling into the agency by 8am (well-dressed and perfectly made-up) and managing to be on my A-game for 12 hours straight while navigating the minefields of my boss' moods and learning what "work hard, play hard" really means.

Right, so maybe that last section of my party-girl career was a bit hardcore... at least for me.

And now we're up to date.

I used to be invincible, man! But now... Oh to be young and naive again. I'm not even 30 yet and I can't fucking deal. True, ever since I went all Less Than Zero at the agency I've sort of been on hiatus. Nesting and focusing on goals and such. I've become a little old lady that, when someone says "Meet around 10:30?", replies with "At night?!" It does make for more fulfilling fun when I do go out... but as I age it's getting harder and harder. The hangovers are getting worse and worse. It used to be that a good omelet and some juice in the morning could turn the booze crown upside down. Then it progressed to a dependable lunchtime dissipation. Now we're at 4 o'clock, I've had 2 full meals, protein, carbs AND sugar - blasphemy! - and I STILL have a cloudy, achy head and a queasy stomach. And I can't even discuss the morning. It's a miracle I made it to work... safely...

And all because I decided to take up a spur of the moment invitation to go dance like a nerd at a back-alley rock bar (okay, not so nefarious) on a Monday night. Seriously, if someone had told me yesterday morning that by 12am I'd be going ape shit up on a platform at some all ages 80s night and getting kicked out of the place for I'm not sure what because I don't remember and neither does anyone else... I would've been like, pssshhh, riiiiiight. Apparently, I'm unpredictable like that. Who knew?

All that is to say... I'm just not sure if it's worth it anymore. Not when I have to spend the next whole day completely out of sorts and feeling like I might pass out on my desk.

[insert labored moan here]

And it's still nowhere near time to go home. Wah.