Six Things You Need To Know

1) I am hungover. Big time. I'm actually pretty sure I'm dying. If I were a doctor (which I'm not, even though I occasionally tell women I meet at bars that I am), I would guess that I'm already about 70% dead. Every time the phone rings it's like I'm being stabbed. Every time I breathe my chest hurts. When I stand, I need to sit down immediately. When I sit down, I need to lay down immediately. When I woke up and peed this morning, I peed Guinness. I am in bad, bad shape.

The point is that I drank enough this weekend to kill a small-ish adult or a full-sized Amish person. And it was pretty fucking awesome.

2) On Sunday night and last night, I've had four girls staying at my apartment, friends from Queens in town for a hairstylists' convention (they are all hairstylists). I gave them my room and I've been sleeping on the couch. As a thank you, they took me to a nice restaurant last night for dinner. Being hungover from Sunday, I wanted to do dinner 6:30 or so so that I could sleep well and be rested for work today. Reservations were made for 9:30. After dinner at 11, we went to have "one" drink. At 11:30, we decided to get one last one before calling it a night. After about eight "last" drinks, we got home around 3:30 in the morning, and only left the bar because the bartender shut off the lights in our section. Hence #1.

3) I'm developing a dangerous taste for dessert drinks. I'm not talking about port or dessert wine, I'm talking about alcohol that tastes like dessert. I've been drinking a lot of Sam Adams Cherry Wheat, a delicious beer that satisfies my post-meal sweet tooth and my desire for alcohol, and last night I had a shot called "Chocolate Cake" for the first time, and I kid you not when I say it tasted exactly like chocolate cake.

I can not understate the potential destructiveness of this development. My two main vices are sweets and booze (actually, my two main vices are murdering prostitutes and heroin, but for argument's sake, we'll use sweets and booze). To combine them would be dangerous, if not fatal. I barely lived through it when I started adding crumbled up Double Stuff Oreos to my Cookies n' Cream ice cream, nearly sending myself into Oreo overdose. But booze and sweets...I don't even want to think about this anymore. Let's move on.

4) I was supposed to meet my friend Graham for drinks tonight. However, due to my condition, I will not be able to do so. Rather than be honest with him, I emailed him and told him I couldn't meet because "work is crazy". Graham will most likely read this. I am sorry Graham. I am truly undeserving of your friendship, and I am a coward. Please forgive me. I am weak.

5) Three of the biggest scumbags I know are in medical school (of course, I use "scumbag" lovingly - I am a scumbag too and I'm pretty awesome). One example: my buddy Rich, that I've known since I was little. He regularly referred to himself as "The Kid" and would talk ad nauseum about his mental, athletic, musical, and romantic capabilities. For example, we used to play softball at the local park, growing up. Rich played shortstop and I played third. When a routine grounder would be hit to me at third, Rich would dart over from the SS position, call me off, and make the play (and admittedly, would do so well). Then, after making the play, he'd say something like, "You know baby you can go relax if you want - The Kid will cover this whole side of the infield" as I shook my head in confusion. Yet he was one of my closest friends growing up, and once you got to know him he was a great guy. But still a scumbag. And now he's studying to become a doctor. God help his poor patients.

I met another scumbag who's studying to become a doctor, my buddy Jeremy's friend Chris. A bunch of us went out on Saturday night and got shit-canned, and I watched Chris drink a bottle of Bud in about three seconds and then have about ninety more. I think he suddenly disappeared at the end of the night, but I really can't verify that. Congrats on med school Chris, you magnificent son of a bitch.

6) I would love to write more, as I have more to say, but I simply can't. Pray for me.